


Darkened Skies

by thewaterfalcon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Death Eaters, F/M, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Spy Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-26 06:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 50
Words: 138,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaterfalcon/pseuds/thewaterfalcon
Summary: They're both fighting; him in clear sight, and she with everything she's ever known.This is a story of resilience, of conscience and falling in love when everything else is falling apart. This is the story of what happened during the year that canon forgot.'He was her one and only chance to feel sane, she was his nights spent chasing a hurricane.'





	1. Part One | Strike the Match - One. The Game

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewritten, re-edited, (hopefully) improved version of the first fanfiction I ever wrote. This story, and the journey it began for me, is everything to me, and Darkened Skies houses my heart and soul. In fact, this is probably the closest I'll come to creating a horcrux.
> 
> Taking the leap into fanfiction gave me so much more than I could ever have dreamed, and I don't think I'll ever be able to truly express my gratitude and love for all I have, all thanks to the fact I started writing this little tale about one misunderstood Slytherin, and the lion who became her everything.
> 
> This was what started the journey to meeting my best friends, being able to create a home for myself in a world I always looked in on from the sidelines and gave me the creative outlet I had no clue how much I needed.
> 
> Darkened Skies started as a tiny idea when all I knew of fanfic was popular pairings I couldn't relate to; it was my but, what if?
> 
> This story developed and grew my Pansy, the same Pansy I've now written in a multitude of scenarios I could never have imagined when I started this. It's not a secret that she's my favourite character, but without DS I wouldn't have the her that I'm known for, but this, where it all began, is my truest and the rawest version of her, and I hope you love her.
> 
> If a scene is entirely italicised, it is a flashback.
> 
> Both Freyja Greengrass and Tula originally came from my friend Avis1765, from a story she is no longer writing, I asked her permission to use these names and utilise these two characters as my own
> 
> Please do be aware that the following subject matter appears in this story: sexual situations, violence, torture, sexual assault and alcoholism.
> 
> Acknowledgements:
> 
> oblivionbaby, for believing in this story from the beginning. Thank you for the time and effort you gave it. You taught me a lot about being a writer and I'm so grateful this granted me your friendship.
> 
> RooOJoy, I don't quite know how to express how much I love and appreciate you. Thank you for wanting to be a part of Darkened Skies. This story is better because of you. You've never not believed in me and you've never doubted me, you're one of my best friends in the entire galaxy and if all DS ever gave me was your friendship, then it'll have given me so much more than I could ever have imagined.
> 
> JEPierre, every list of thanks I make will probably always include you. Thank you for loving this story and for encouraging my Pansy. Thank you for everything you do as my best friend, soul sister and wife! Thank you for asking me to create that little ol' group just for rare pairs, that has grown bigger than either of us could possibly dream. You support me every single day and I'll never be able to tell you how much you mean to me.
> 
> Habababa, thank you for following everything I write. Every review and comment you've ever left me means the whole world. I love that you let DS into your life and I love that you're now a permanent fixture in mine. I love you, you beautiful broccoli, please never change.
> 
> SandraSempra, I don't know how we became so close, so fast, but you don't know how happy I am to have you in my life. Thank you for making me decide to change the side pairing in this and for giving the fandom the Millie it deserves. You are a breath of fresh air and I need you to know how much I love that you make me laugh every single day.
> 
> To all of the members of Fairest, for giving me a place in this fandom I feel at home. Thank you for accepting us at our most vulnerable, and for loving us at our craziest.
> 
> & to you, reader. Thank you for reading, if you read the entire story, or just stay for a few chapters, or one, please know that I value you so, so much.
> 
> Love, thewaterfalcon

 

* * *

 Part One | Strike the Match

 

One. _The Game_

* * *

 

Absentmindedly, she petted the owl's head as she removed the scroll, which was wound tightly and bore the all too familiar wax seal of Hogwarts and she watched, a slight frown present upon her pale face as the barn owl began its descent towards the window. She had been waiting for the letter to appear and yet its arrival, combined with the knowledge that not only was the school's headmaster no more, but the overwhelming and unmissable number of unnerving changes that had been taking place around the entirety of the Wizarding World made the school's seal seem achingly familiar and yet entirely different, all at once.

 

_Dear Ms Parkinson,_

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

_I would also like to offer my congratulations as you have been selected as Head Girl; your new badge is enclosed.  
You will be expected in the Prefects' carriage of the Hogwarts Express no later than ten past eleven to meet with the new Head Boy and greet the new and existing Prefects. As you are aware, patrols for the new school year begin aboard the train._

_A list of books for next year is enclosed._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

 

Pansy blinked before re-reading the letter.  _Head Girl?_  She stared at the two words written before her.  _Is this a joke? Must be a joke. Merlin, is Granger dead?_

"Pansy?" Pansy started. Her eyes flashed to her mother's face before scanning her letter once more. "Pansy!" Lilith Parkinson repeated, her voice steely. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

_I have! Granger's!_

"I'm Head Girl," Pansy answered, a tad blunter than she had intended as her eyes scanned over the letter again.

Lilith appeared to poorly imitate a smile, the corners of her mouth were raised slightly, but her lips remained in a poker straight line. "I know."

"I don't- what?"

"Pansy, things are going to be vastly improved this year for you with that bearded maniac finally," Lilith paused, her gaze unreadable, "deceased."

Pansy dropped her attention to her palm and shook the envelope which had contained her letter and found, just as promised, her new badge. 'Head Girl' was emblazoned in silver on a background of Slytherin green. She became vaguely aware that her mother was still talking.

"-more than happy to accommodate your wish to become Head Girl."

"What?" Pansy asked, bluntly. She was fairly certain she had never expressed any such wish to anyone, let alone her mother. "Who? What are you talking about?"

Lilith inhaled deeply through her nose, her eyes closed and when she began to talk again she did so slowly, emphasising each syllable. "Amycus and Alecto," Lilith enunciated, taking another breath, this time closer to a sigh than anything else.

_The first thing she's said to me this week, and she's bored already_. Pansy narrowed her eyes and sighed back, her demeanour defensive.

"As I was saying, they are old friends of your father and they, along with Severus, will be ensuring Hogwarts is far more efficiently ran."

"So, I'm only Head Girl because my father asked these-"

"Carrows."

Pansy blinked. "What the hell is a carrow?"

"Amycus Carrow. Alecto CARROW!" Lilith's tone had sharpened and the volume of her voice had increased tenfold. Pansy could see her mother's patience had all but departed.  _Good._ Pansy rolled her eyes.

"The letter is still from McGonagall," Pansy mumbled, distracted, once more, by the parchment still clutched between her fingertips.

"What's that?" Lilith's tone was sharp.

"The letter. It's still signed by McGonagall."

"Mmm, well that's unsurprising, the Carrows were never particularly studious from what I remember."

Pansy snorted. "It's a good job they aren't in charge of my studies then."

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger, her eyes closing as she let out yet another sigh. "Oh, Pansy, do stop being dramatic, it's awfully exhausting."

_Dramatic?_ Pansy's mouth opened, the Slytherin intent on answering Lilith back, when the tense exchange between mother and daughter was brought to a stark standstill with the hearth on the opposing wall lighting up in a billowing of bright green flame which, once subsided, revealed a pale, dark-haired and sallow-skinned figure. Pansy took a deep breath and steadied herself for the greater argument she predicted would be imminent.

Cassius Parkinson stepped from the hearth, brushing the front of his robes with the back of his fingers as he did, his eyes, a deep, deep brown colour that was so dissimilar from Pansy's own, bright green iris', swept the vicinity of the room.

"Your daughter is Head Girl of Hogwarts," Lilith rattled off, her tone irate, before Pansy had any chance to speak. "And it would  _seem_  to me that she couldn't be more ungrateful for that if she tried."

_Oh, fuck you!_

Pansy crossed her arms, awaiting her father's response. Cassius raised an eyebrow, his eyes meeting Pansy's for a short second before he turned his attention almost entirely, to a nearby drinks cabinet. "Congratulations, Pansy."

_He almost sounds like he means it._ Pansy, taken aback by the lack of snap in her father's tone, watched him march towards the black, glassy cabinet. Her mouth had opened and her eyes were narrowed in suspicion; even the short amount of time that he'd been in their presence was enough to show Pansy that her father was acting entirely out of character. She knew how it would  _usually_ have gone, Pansy recalled a dozen separate scenarios where he, Cassius, had asked Lilith for more of her, usually exaggerated, information on Pansy's misgivings. The details Lilith provided would usually be used by Cassius to berate his daughter further than Lilith had already done. The lack of this usual parenting tactic had caught Pansy off guard, and she took a step towards him, manoeuvring her body so she no longer had to see her mother's face.

"Thanks. Uh…" she stammered, "how was your day?"

This time, her father's eyes did not meet her own, not even for a short second. Instead, Cassius fixated his look somewhere level with Pansy's shoulder, to nothing in particular. "Busy. The new Muggle-Born Registration Act is now in place."

_Gods, that was for real!?_

"What happens if a Muggle-Born doesn't register?" For the second time that afternoon Pansy's thoughts drifted, fleetingly, to Hermione Granger.

"They get taught a lesson."

"What sort of lesson?"

Pansy watched as Cassius regarded her, his expression unreadable. She shifted her own features into the typical look of defiance she so often saved just for her parents.

Sighing deeply into his newly acquired glass of firewhisky, Cassius unsuccessfully attempted to hide a smirk, a look of reminiscent pleasure crawling across his pale face as he spoke. "That the Dark Lord does not take kindly to those who oppose him." He continued, "Nothing for you to worry about, our blood is as pure as they come, you know that." Pansy's eyes followed the flecks of light that bounced across the surface of her father's whisky.

"It wasn't me I was thinking about," Pansy murmured. It was a raw statement that came from someplace deep inside Pansy that held no word of a lie. Hearing the words emanate from her own mouth had surprised even herself. Compassion towards Muggle-borns was not a sentiment Pansy had ever expressed, nor, if she were to be entirely honest with herself, particularly thought of before. Yet, nonetheless, as the faces of numerous others from her year washed across Pansy's mind, Hermione Granger featuring annoyingly prominently, Pansy knew it was one of the most real sentences she had ever said aloud. "Do you agree with the Act?" Pansy asked.

Cassius regarded his daughter. "My stance on the matter is irrelevant. This is the game we must play, Pansy," he stated, nonchalantly.

"The game we must play," Pansy repeated her father's words. The agreement of the Muggle Registration Act, and whatever  _lessons_ awaited those forced to register didn't seem like any kind of game Pansy wished to play.

"Precisely."

_The only difference being, you look as though it's a game you_ want  _to play._


	2. Special

Tick.   
Tock.  
Tick.  
Tock.

The timepiece showed it was half past four, and the few faint streaks of light through the curtains signaled that dawn was fast approaching. Pansy yawned, she’d seen every hour of the night come and promptly go, both her desire and ability to slumber apparently having long since deserted her. She’d lain in bed for what she now realised was close to six full hours; tossing, turning, and imagining - she had clock-watched, attempted to read, and she’d cried. In fact, Pansy frowned, sleeping was really one of the only activities she hadn’t managed to get through that night.

The witch sighed heavily through her nose. It was no secret Pansy wasn’t the biggest fan of Muggle-borns. She had never taken any steps, nor made any efforts to hide that fact. “Slytherin!” The sorting hat had called within seconds of being placed on her head at her Sorting Ceremony, and Pansy had openly smirked at the hat’s revelation. She was a pure-blood, going where pure-bloods should go. She was Sacred Twenty-Eight. She was a Parkinson.

_“We’re special Pansy, we’ve always been special, and we will always be special.”_

Pansy didn’t feel special anymore. She still felt a superiority over Muggle-borns, didn’t she? Granger, who for some unbeknownst reason had, yet again, crept into the forefront of Pansy’s subconscious, was the smartest in her year. Pansy scrunched up her nose and rolled her eyes to no one at the thought. Still don’t have to like her. She didn’t like Granger, and she’d be willing to bet a lot of gold she never would. Yet, she knew she couldn’t agree with the lessons that awaited the witch, and all those like her. Let’s face it, she thought dryly, they’ll be ‘taught lessons’...or worse, whether they ‘register’ or not.

For the first time in her life, Pansy Parkinson questioned what being from a Sacred Twenty-Eight family truly meant.

Her conclusion was fairly simplistic. _It means I will probably avoid pointless torture._ She furthered her thoughts. _Nothing. It means absolutely fuck all._

Pansy had never felt less special.

 

* * *

 

She made the decision in a split second, and in only a few short minutes she was standing in the centre of her room, fully clothed. In spite of her hair being scraped back in a clumsy ponytail and her face unwashed, Pansy felt surprisingly energetic considering her lack of sleep. Grabbing her wand, she padded the length of her room and quickly exited into the adjacent corridor. Walking softly through the house, Pansy’s thoughts screamed just as loud as her heart thumped.

The darkness and the shadows didn’t unnerve her, and neither did the tapping on a nearby window, which she knew was caused by an old cherry tree. She wasn’t startled when an owl hooted from the garden, or by the pop of an unseen pipe closeby. Pansy revelled in all things nighttime and would choose a deserted, midnight landscape over almost any other. She felt at home, and calm, in the dark of the early hours. Pansy’s mouth twitched at the owl’s second hoot as she furthered her passage through the large house.

What did put Pansy on edge, instantly, however, was the very loud and out of place creak, that echoed around her and raised every hair on Pansy’s neck. It took only a few seconds for Pansy, wand grasped tightly as she frowned into the dark hallway, to realise it had originated from a floorboard situated in the room directly in front of her. Luckily the door to said room, Cassius’s study, was closed.

Pansy held her breath as she suddenly became aware that a definite murmur of voices had began to radiate from the direction of the study. Creeping closer, Pansy was able to identify her father’s dry tone, and another, not immediately recognisable - but seemed to hold an odd familiarity to it.

Reaching her side of the door in a crouch as quickly as she dared, even in spite of the hasty cushioning charm she’d whispered to quiet her steps as much as possible, the conversation became entirely audible.

“Of course, it is only a matter of waiting one more year, less even, ten months.”

Pansy only just managed to stifle a gasp of realisation. She knew that voice. What the hell is Rabastan Lestrange doing in my house at half four in the fucking morning?

“Indeed,” Cassius replied. “As long as you’re happy with our arrangement still, I’m sure you can find a Muggle slave-whore or two to fill your time between now and then.”

_Well, thanks for that mental image, father._

“Ha!” Rabastan clapped his hands. “You read my mind Cass, old boy!”

“Not a particularly difficult feat, Lestrange. Oh, whilst I have you here, did you locate that family in Leicester?”

  
“Yes.”

Goosebumps rising on her arms, Pansy could feel Rabastan’s smirk as an involuntary shiver took over her body at his tone.

“And?” Cassius pressed.

“They will...not be...an issue.”

Cassius did not answer immediately, yet when he did, his voice sounded entirely calm. “Good. Any difficulties?”

“Other than the daughter’s cry being one of the most irksome sounds I’ve ever had the misfortune to be subjected to, no.”

“I assume this irksome crying was dealt with quickly?”

“Of course.”

The conversation had apparently reached its end. Pansy heard papers being gathered, glasses placed down and eventually, the unmistakable crackling of fire.

“You’ll be at the meeting tonight?” Pansy heard Cassius enquire.

“I will. I shall see you then.”

There were no exchanges of farewell. Pansy heard the footsteps, Rabastan’s, move a few steps before he murmured an address and the unmistakable whooshing sound of her father’s floo informed Pansy that the Death Eater had left the premises.

A further set of footsteps, belonging to who Pansy could only assume was her father, began to make their way closer to the door, a door that Pansy was currently pressed up against. A situation she guessed would not go down particularly well with Cassius, were he to find her there.

Pansy managed to dodge into the kitchen and run, as quietly as she could manage, to the back door. Once outside, Pansy realised she was panting heavily as a heavy feeling of nausea coursed its way through her. She knew her father wasn’t a particularly nice man. He was neither gentle nor kind in ways she had seen other fathers be. But the way he was talking, he didn’t just sound like a bastard, he sounded like an evil bastard. Who had the family from Leicester been? How old was the girl with the irksome scream? Rabastan was bad news, even to families like the Parkinson’s; the Lestrange’s were on a whole different level.

A truth Pansy was not expecting hit her like a ton of bricks.

That’s _why he’d been out four nights a week, constant meetings, ‘business lunches’._ Pansy gasped, she’d heard him ask Rabastan if he was going to the meeting.

His words from earlier that day presented themselves to the front of Pansy’s mind, as though summoned. “That the Dark Lord does not take kindly to those that oppose him.”

 

 _Dark Lord._ Pansy’s eyes widened in the dark. _Not a normal meeting, none of them have been normal meetings. Death Eater Meeting._

_I am so fucking stupid._

Her legs seemed to know what they needed to do without instruction. Pansy walked, tears blurring her vision, tears that threatened to erupt from her in loud, full on sobs.

She felt herself walk into something, a big something. A big hairy something.

MOOOOOOOO!

_My father is a Death Eater, and I just walked into a cow._

 


	3. Smells Like Summer

Arriving back from her very early, sporadic jaunt to the cow field, Pansy sat on the edge of her bed. She took a deep breath and allowed her upper body to fall backwards, feeling the springs bounce beneath her head. Closing her eyes, she attempted, for what felt like the millionth time that night, or morning now, she supposed, to take stock of her thoughts.

_I’m Head Girl - fucking hell!_

_I have a Death Eater for a father - fucking fuck!_

_Pretty sure I now smell like cow - fucking yuck!_

Shifting her weight to her elbows, Pansy hoisted herself up slightly, her eyes moving to her window as she reached for the wand in her pocket.

Closing her eyes, Pansy focused her mind; thinking the spell in the most direct way she could muster. She opened her eyes and stared, unblinking, at the window.

“Alohomora.” The window’s lock fell open, and Pansy smiled, realising she had managed to non-verbally open the window about an inch. Initially, Pansy had planned on throwing herself back onto the bed once more, however, a familiar scent reached her nostrils, distracting her and pushing the majority of her current misgivings to the back of her mind.

_It smells like summer._

 

* * *

 

_“It’s summer now, Mummy! It’s really summer!”_

__

_“Yes, Pansy.”_

__

_“No, Mummy. It’s s-u-_ mmer _! It smells like summer.”_

__

_“Mmmhmmm.”_

__

_Pansy swayed on the edges of her feet and rolled her head from side to side, her face the picture of expectation; eyes round, two teeth missing from her wide grin. She watched, mouth slowly closing as her mother turned and walk away._

__

_“But, it smells like summer...” Pansy trailed off and tried hard to hold back the tears she was already aware had started to gather in her eyes._ A face with tears is not a pretty one. _Shaking her head fiercely, Pansy did her best to abide by her mother’s so often said mantra._

__

_Taking a deep breath, Pansy turned to her right and her reflection blinked back at her from an ornate mirror. Plain and pretty in equal measures; pale skin, black hair, and green eyes... eyes that were still watery and threatening to overspill tears down her cheeks._

__

_“A face with tears is not a pretty one,” the_ six-year-old _repeated, aloud this time._

__

_Pansy swallowed while simultaneously nodding to her reflection._ Mummy just forgot. I can still go myself, still have fun. Still go. Still have fun.

_After one last determined nod to herself, she marched swiftly, a small giggle escaping her as she pulled each knee up as high as she could. She reached her destination skipping into the large kitchen, and Pansy began her search._

__

_Sandwiches;_ mmmmm _._

 _Apples; a bit less_ mmmmm _._

 _Biscuits; lots of_ mmmmm _._

 _Pumpkin juice; middle amounts of_ mmmmm _._

__

_Pansy laughed out loud, locating, and subsequently climbing atop a counter in order to reach, a brown wicker picnic basket. Jumping down, the young girl stomped to the counter island and began carefully placing each item of food into the basket as carefully as she was able. Can’t squash the sandwiches, because then they’ll be_ flatwidges _. Pansy snorted at her play on words and positioned the small bottle of pumpkin juice next to the sandwiches, paying particular attention to their level of_ squashedness _._

__

_After she was finished admiring her picnic-basket-packing handiwork, Pansy grabbed hold of the handle and swung the basket from the counter which promptly hit against her left knee._

__

Ooof!

_Pansy frowned at the offending basket. “That hurt, you know.”_

__

_As she exited the back door of the large country house, Pansy stopped and looked back, willing herself not to feel sad, yet unable to remove the mask of disappointment which had shifted over her pale features._

__

Maybe if I reminded her then she’d come- No! _Pansy physically shook her head again._ She forgot because she had another busy plan.

_Pansy Parkinson’s thoughts were deceiving. She was lying to herself, at a mere six years, in spite of what she hopelessly wanted to believe as the truth. Sometimes, Pansy thought to herself, a lie is better than the truth. Pansy brushed some hair behind her right_ ear, _and looked at her shoes; pale blue and scuffed at the toes._

__

A face with tears is not a pretty one. A face with tears is not a pretty one. A face with tears is not a pretty one.

_Pansy descended the three small steps which led from the kitchen to the spacious country garden that accommodated the Parkinson homestead._ She paused _at the bottom and observed her surroundings. By most standards, both house and the encircling gardens were beautiful. The large, Victorian structure was, by rights, more of a manor than a regular old house, and the gardens would be more accurately described as ‘grounds’._

__

_Inhaling deeply through her nose, she thought to herself,_ It smells like summer.

_Pansy hadn’t yet left the confines of the gardens before the picnic basket had become nothing more than an annoyance. When I’m...at Hogwarts, Pansy puffed, scowling, I won’t...have to… carry things… ever again. By the time she had finally arrived at her journey’s_ end _she was exhausted; she was hot, gasping for breath, and sweaty._

Oh, I’m all yuck!

_Pansy sat, legs and arms both outstretched, and sighed. allowing her upper body to fall backwards. Her back hit the grass with a muffled thwack. My favourite place in the world. She lay_ in _a grassy verge, surrounded by birch trees and bramble bushes. The Parkinson’s home was visible to Pansy’s left and to her right was a large square field. Pansy sat up and turned her attention to the field, she had chosen this particular spot purposefully, as it was close to the field’s gate. Her earlier sadness depleted, Pansy began to unpack her picnic and her face broke into a wide smile as she noticed a familiar figure walk towards her._

__

_MOOOOO!_

__

_Giggling, Pansy_ moo’d _back._

__

_“I told you I’d come back!”_

 

* * *

 

Pansy turned on her heel, her back pressing into the windowsill. Her breathing was so heavy her chest hurt, and she felt as though her mind might explode. Moving quickly towards the bathroom, Pansy stopped in at an airing cupboard and retrieved her favourite towel; light blue in colour with the words Beach, please written in yellow at one end. Daphne had given it to her at the end of Fourth Year when she’d invited Pansy on holiday with the Greengrass family. Daphne had a matching towel in opposite colours, hers featuring the text Please, beach. Pansy smiled. Daphne was on holiday again now, to America. Unfortunately for Pansy, the Greengrass’ had portkey’d halfway around the world to stay with some far-flung relatives to attend a family wedding. Very much a Greengrass-only affair. Pansy raised the towel to her face, changing its function into a tissue.

_Oh Daph, are you going to hate me when you find out about my dad?_

 

* * *

 

__

_They were standing in front of a large, walnut coloured door that led into a large building Pansy didn’t recognise. “Pansy, stop fidgeting.”_

__

I do not fidget. _Pansy’s face had dropped, she knew she was scowling; she knew this would only annoy her mother more, and yet she wasn’t willing to stop. She did, however, keep her accompanying sigh at what she believed to be an inaudible volume._

__

_Lilith looked_ upon _her nine-year-old daughter, one perfectly preened eyebrow slowly rising. Pansy glanced_ back, _and watched Lilith’s nostrils flare. She gulped, and her gaze shifted to her feet. Maybe I didn’t make my sigh quiet enough. The door they were facing began to open, and Pansy let out another sigh, this time, of relief. A house elf was standing in the doorway. I wonder if it’s a boy or girl?_

__

_“Greetings,_ Mrs. _Parkinson,” the elf squeaked at Lilith, lowering itself into a bow. Rising up it looked at Pansy. “Miss. Parkinson,” it said before bowing once more. Wow! It bowed_ at _me. Pansy smiled at the elf._ “Are you a girl? What’s your name?” _Huh, I didn’t know elves could look surprised._

__

_Bowing, once more, the elf retorted, “My name is Tula, young Miss, and yes, I am a girl.”_

__

Knew it, _Pansy thought, smugly. She looks like a girl. Pansy glanced at her mother, surprised to find she was already watching the young girl once more, in a manner that instinctively caused Pansy to drop her head again to examine her shoes._ Oh, she looks maaaaaad.

_“Please, come in,” Tula began, either oblivious_ to, _or, more likely unwilling to comment on the tension that had befallen over the duo. “Mistress and little Miss are waiting for you both in the lounge. I will be happy to show you.”_

__

_Nodding her head once, curtly, Lilith stepped into the house. Pansy followed suit, trying to emulate her mother’s confident strides, however,_ instead _ending up tripping over a small, brown Welcome mat. Pansy’s knee hit the wooden floor, hard._ Ow. Oh OW! No, don’t cry. Don’t cry! A face with tears-

_“Get. Up. Now.” Lilith hissed, sounding positively livid. Pansy swallowed hard and rose to her feet, her knee now stinging._

__

-is not a pretty one.

_Pansy sniffed. Straightening her back she shifted her attention back to Tula, and Pansy thought she saw the elf give her a small, fleeting smile._

__

_The trio walked in silence, Tula leading them through the long hallway, Pansy tried to count the doors they passed._ Eight. Nine. Ten, I think. _They stopped in front of the door at the very end of the corridor, upon which Tula knocked twice and pushed the door ajar._

__

_“Mistress”, Tula began as Pansy craned to see who exactly Tula’s mistress was. And, who is the little Miss?_

__

_“Thank you Tula, would you fetch us the tea and cakes we spoke about?”_

__

_“Of course Mistress, right away.” With a small_ pop _Tula vanished, and Pansy was able to look inside the lounge._

_The large room managed to look immaculate, perfectly presented, and yet was the picture of a comfortable family home. Large, squashy sofas created a border around one of the most comfortable rugs Pansy had ever seen; it was_ fluffy, _and coloured a dark mauve. Pansy longed to lay on it. It looks like a purple cloud. Moving pictures lined the walls in no particular pattern, out of them beamed a family. They’re all really beautiful, Pansy thought, watching the magical images. A small, square end table stood in front of the adjacent wall from the door, atop of which Pansy noticed the biggest bunch of flowers she had ever seen; rich purples, blues and reds spilt over their vase._

__

_Before she’d even met more than their house elf, Pansy already knew she liked it here. She liked this house with its cloud rug and wowing flower arrangements. She liked this family._

__

_A slim, blonde woman stepped forward, her smile big and her eyes kind. She looked younger than Lilith, but not by much. Her attire consisted of a simple dark green dress, the skirt of which fell slightly below her knee. A string of pearls adorned her collarbone, and Pansy spotted a matching set around her wrist._ Wow! She’s pretty!

_“Lilith! So, so pleased you could make it.” The woman placed her hands on the sides of Lilith’s arms._

__

_“It was kind of you to invite us, Freyja.”_

__

_The blonde woman, Freyja, turned her attention towards Pansy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,_ Pansy _.” She sounded_ well-spoken _, yet gentle._

__

_“Thank you.” Pansy’s voice was small. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”_

__

_Freyja flashed Pansy another smile before back into her lounge, Lilith and Pansy following. Pansy saw Freyja beckon to the far corner of the room and her eyes followed the woman’s gaze. A  pretty, blonde girl who looked to be around Pansy’s age - nine, maybe ten, was standing nearby. Her smile was extremely similar to her mother’s, and it was directed towards Pansy as she began to walk across the lounge, towards her mother, Pansy, and Lilith._

__

_“Hi!” she spoke brightly, blonde curls bouncing as she walked. “I’m Daphne!”_

__

 

* * *

 

_“Hufflepuff.”_

__

_“Hufflepuff!?” Daphne screeched, walloping Pansy in the ribs with a cushion. “Are you KIDDING me, Parkinson?” Laughing, Pansy threw the cushion back, narrowly missing the side of her best friend’s head. “Don’t be so touchy, badger.”_

__

_“Pans?” Daphne’s voice softened, a line appearing across the forehead of her otherwise perfect face_

__

_“Mmmm, what’s up?”_

__

_“What if we aren’t in the same House?” Daphne’s gaze had drifted to the window of her bedroom. Pansy looked out, too, and the pair sat in a comfortable, yet very definite silence._

__

_“I don’t know,” Pansy answered, honestly._

__

 

* * *

 

Stepping out of the shower, Pansy stepped towards the porcelain sink situated to her left. Her reflection stared sadly back at her from the small mirror above. Undoing the turban-style towel she’d placed her dark locks up into, Pansy watched her mirror-self as a mass of black strands tumbled down over her face, cascading on top of her shoulders, stopping close to her elbows.

Pansy reached into the cabinet that was located behind the mirror and retrieved a bottle of talcum powder, a muggle product her and Daphne had found by complete chance several years prior.

_“This shit leaves my skin so, so, so soft,” Daphne exclaimed, relishing as she hugged the bottle to her chest.  “You wouldn’t believe. Feel me!” she demanded, rotating her body on a sofa of the Slytherin common room and throwing her legs over the combined laps of Blaise and Theo. The boys had shown very little hesitation._

__

Smiling softly at the memory, Pansy held the bottle of talc close to her nose. She squeezed the bottle, slightly harder than she’d intended, and a giant puff of powder exploded from the pin-sized holes in the cap.

_Shit! Oh, bloody hell. It’s everywhere._

Pansy regarded the bathroom as she bit her lip and sighed in frustration.

_Looks like it’s been bloody snowing._

 

* * *

 

I wish it snowed yesterday.

__

_Pansy’s eyes drifted around the sparsely decorated living room, her small hands clutching a handful of birthday cards; cards her mother had insisted she removed from their previous positions, standing on the mantelpiece._

__

_“Your birthday was yesterday, Pansy. There’s no reason they should still be on display,” Lilith said,_ matter _of factly. Pansy looked at each card_ in _turn, watching colourful dancing ‘6’s doing cartwheels. Another showed a kitten playfully batting a ball of yarn which kept unravelling before reassembling into the shape of a bright pink number six. The just-turned six-year-old turned her attention, once more, to the large windows. “I love snow mummy. Do you love snow?”_

__

_“-and inform Narcissa we will be happy to attend.”_

__

_“_ Mu-mmy _!” Pansy sank to the floor dramatically, in an attempt to attract Lilith’s attention. “Mummy, I need to know. Do you love snow?”_

__

_Lilith paused, and the Quick-Quotes Quill poised itself by her left shoulder. “Pansy, Mummy is busy.”_  
  
 _“I know, but you said. You said you’d come with me today. It’s my favourite place in the whole world. Remember? You said we could go to-morrow, and_ to-morrow _is now to-DAY!” Lilith closed her eyes, her fingertips circling at her temples. Pansy watched, eyes wide and hopeful, mouth open; the picture of expectation. Lilith took several long, deep breaths._

__

_“Look, Pansy, Mummy really doesn’t love snow. In fact, I don’t even like snow. Wouldn’t it be better if we went to your favourite place, to see the sheep-”_

__

_“-cows, Mummy, cows.”_

__

_Lilith nodded. “Yes, of course, cows. We could go in the summer.”_

_“You promise?” Pansy elongated the word, narrowing her eyes as she stared at her mother. Her face was full of suspicion, yet her heart was full of hope._

__

_“Absolutely. Once the summer is here, we will go.” Pansy knew her mother’s attention was already wavering, her eyes were darting back and forth to the still stationery quill._

__

_“Okay, Mummy. Once it smells like summer we can go see the cows.” Pansy nodded along with her statement._ Once it smells like summer, mummy will see my favourite place. She’ll see the cows.

 

_“Yes Pansy, you come to me when it-” Lilith paused, her expression one of slight confusion “-smells like summer, we’ll go see your cows.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know what's fantastic? When Archive doesn't save your formatting...such as italicised text. 
> 
> Yeah...that's so great.


	4. Needed Them, Always

“Shit Pans, you were serious?” Daphne turned the small badge over and over in her perfectly manicured hands. “Head Girl, I always thought Granger-”

“Yeah, me too,” Pansy interrupted, watching the badge weave through her best friend’s fingers. “But apparently there’s new management or something who know my parents, and,” she rolled her eyes, “my dad asked them if I could be Head Girl.” The slight raise of Daphne’s eyebrows didn’t go unnoticed. “Yes, I know, it’s…” trailing off, she shot Daphne a sideways glance.

“-kind of  lame,”  Daphne offered, attempting, albeit not very well, to conceal her blatant desire to laugh. She handed the badge back and tucked a long blonde strand behind one ear before examining her dark purple painted fingernails, bringing her hands together side by side, her fingers stretched out, she turned her hands over, waving them in front of Pansy’s face. “What do you think of this colour?”

“Lame? What the fuck is  lame? ” Pansy demanded, far more aghast than she really ought to be, ignoring the presented question.  

“It’s what they say in America when something is really, really uncool. You know, like your best friend getting Head Girl due to her dad  knowing someone.  Seriously, is this too dark on me?  In America , they go for manicures like we go for  haircuts. ” 

Daphne, I swear to fuck if you mention what they say, do, or how they fucking shit in America once more I’m going to hex you.

“Do they? That’s fascinating,” Pansy retorted, tartly. 

“You know, in America, they are nowhere near as sarcastic.”

“Is that so?” Daphne had returned from her big American holiday two days previous, declaring that her destination was,  “Totally, like, the greatest place in the world.”

The pair were sitting outside a Muggle restaurant, an upmarket, overpriced Italian place in Soho. Daphne had wanted to dine ‘al fresco’ and Pansy had wanted pizza - an easy compromise. At Daphne’s insistence, along with her outlandish flirting with their waiter, a ploy Pansy was certain was solely so they could avoid getting asked for ID, the duo were sipping cocktails.

“You know,” Daphne began, ignoring the last sarcastic reply that Pansy had retorted, “this means we won’t sleep in the same dorm anymore? You know you’re basically  abandoning- ” she put a lot of emphasis on the word, “-me and Mills?”

“Apparently, things are going to be different for me this year, according to the she-hag anyway.” 

Daphne snorted. “‘She-hag’? That’s lovely, definitely my new favourite. It paints an interesting mental image.” Daphne paused, raising her glass as she took a long drink. “Mmm, this is almost as nice as its name,” the blonde declared, placing her tall glass which contained something called ‘Sex-On-The-Beach’ back on the table. She continued, “‘Different’?  Good different, like you can now eat fifty chocolate frogs a day and not ever have a fat arse? Or  bad different, like you suddenly develop a deathly allergy to all forms of eye makeup?”

Pansy was nibbling on one of the pizza crusts that remained on her plate. “Good, but probably not quite ‘fifty chocolate frogs’ good.” Putting the crust down, her throat suddenly dry, Pansy sighed, “I have to tell you something, Daph.” 

Daphne, who had returned her attention back towards her cocktail, looked up. “Okay, what’s up?”  ‘What’s up?’ Ugh, Daphne, stop it!  Pansy looked down, unable to meet Daphne’s eyes. She picked up the pizza crust once more and watched her hands rotate it, though the crust was the last thing from Pansy’s mind. What she  was seeing, in some scary part of her mind that Pansy wished she could vacate, was her best friend of nearly eight years loudly telling Pansy to go fuck herself before dramatically storming off: because Daphne did most things dramatically. In fact, Daphne’s dramatic nature had reached legendary status within Slytherin.  Daphne Drama, a term Blaise had coined a few years prior after Daphne had almost cried in potions when Neville Longbottom had accidentally squirted a dollop of bubotuber pus in the blonde’s face, was a commonly used descriptor within their House.    
  
Pansy’s favourite Daphne Drama, however, she thought with a soft small smile, had taken place in Fifth Year, when a minute, grey owl - clearly lost, had found its way into the Hogwarts dungeons and somehow managed to zoom into the Slytherin common room. For several moments, the bird dashed above their heads in no discernable pattern, whilst hooting dismally. Finally, after exhausting its way around the entirety of the ceiling multiple times over, the owl emptied its bowels rather spectacularly. Unfortunately for Daphne, she found herself to be standing directly under the still speeding owl’s bottom at the point it defecated. Looking back, Pansy thought maybe she would have reacted similarly had an owl taken a shit on her head. 

“HE-LLOOOOOO! Do I need to pour the rest of my drink over you? Because I really don’t want to do that, it’s yummy.” Pansy eyed Daphne warily, trying to ignore the anxiety creeping into the pit of her stomach.

“You might hate me,” Pansy responded curtly, snapping out of her reminiscing.

“I already hate you for leaving me to become Head Girl. A bit more hate probably won’t make a lot of difference.” Pansy took a deep breath.  I love you, Daphne Greengrass, you beautiful bitch. 

“I think my dad is hanging out with some really bad people.” 

“The old minister bad, or Draco’s dad bad?”

Pansy dropped her gaze to the table once more. Barely more than a whisper, her mouth still impossibly dry, she managed to croak, “Draco’s dad.”

“Shit, you sure?” Daphne’s eyes dropped to a frown.

“Do you remember last year, at that weird party Draco’s mum and dad threw - when we met Rabastan Lestrange?”

“Yeah, Gods that was  awful . He was such a perv. I wish they’d throw him back in Azkaban.”

“Not likely.”

Pansy would remember the night her and Daphne, along with Blaise, Millicent, Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle were summoned to Malfoy Manor as though it were only a few days prior, probably for the rest of her life. The  Garden Gathering, as Narcissa had penned the evening, had been an incredibly uncomfortable affair. The seven classmates had been introduced, by an even more uncomfortable Draco, to a who’s who of Wizarding Britain’s most notorious criminals. Pansy hadn’t needed many of the vocalised introductions at all, having recognised a number of the ‘guests’ from various wanted posters the year before. 

Rabastan Lestrange had stayed by the girls’ side far longer than either of them had either anticipated nor wanted. His voice, possibly once charming, now sounded hideously gravelly, and gave her chills at the memory of it. 

A wide-eyed, frantic-looking Freyja Greengrass had been the source of their rescue, feigning illness and pulled her eldest daughter and Pansy hurriedly towards the floo.

“If my mum hadn’t dragged us home, he’d have stayed with us all night,” Daphne said, wrinkling her nose at the memory of Rabastan.

“I’m glad your mum  did  drag us home.” 

“Me too.” Daphne was watching Pansy intently, her usual aloof attitude seemingly having been cast aside.

“Well-” Pansy began, forcing the conversation to return to the present, “-I heard him, Rabastan, in my house the other night. He and my dad were talking about a family; I-I think Rabastan killed them. They spoke of some arrangement they’d made, and a meeting... Daph, I think it was a-”

“-Death Eater meeting,” Daphne whispered, her voice rushed as her right hand shot over her mouth.

Pansy didn’t answer. It hadn’t been a question. 

She dared to look into Daphne’s face for the first time since she began this awful conversation. Daphne’s expression, apart from shocked, was undecipherable. Pansy recognised a wave of anger cross Daphne’s blue eyes.  Oh, my Gods, she does hate me.  She watched as Daphne, her best friend since she was nine years old, inhaled a deep breath, and the blonde stood up. She was hurried, yet still graceful, even with her chair being practically flung aside.  She’s leaving. She’s having a Daphne Drama. She’s having a Daphne Drama AT ME.

“Daph, wait! Please, it’s not-” Daphne had stormed around the table towards her. Pansy stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widened, and her body shrank back into her chair.  She’s going to fucking hit me.  Daphne launched herself on top of Pansy, her arms locked themselves around Pansy’s neck.  Is she trying to strangle me?

“Oh, Pans!” Daphne’s voice began to choke.  What the hell, Daphne, you’re sitting on my knee you weirdo! Well, at least she’s not mad, is she?

“You’re not mad at me?” Pansy’s voice was muffled beneath Daphne’s hold on her.

“Why would I be mad at  you ? Why would you think I would hate you?” 

Pansy shrugged. “Well, it’s not, you know, great is it?”

“But it’s not  you.  I’m not going to be mad at you over what your arsehole dad is doing.” Daphne squeezed Pansy tighter.  I may still end up strangled.

“Daphne?”

“Hmm?”

“Daphne, you do realise you’re  sitting on my knee , right?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, I had to make sure because, you know, people are looking.” Pansy had become embarrassingly aware that people were indeed watching the pair. Muggles, both at the surrounding tables and on the pavement that was parallel to the restaurant’s front were outright staring at the duo. Daphne got up, loudly proclaimed that everyone observing was ‘Clearly jealous.’  Sinking back into her seat, she picked up her cocktail, and after realising it was almost empty started looking in all directions, no doubt trying to locate the waiter. 

Pansy started to laugh, in spite of everything. She had no idea what this year had in store. It was common knowledge that Voldemort had returned, and this meant there would be sides to choose between and possibly fighting whichever one they opted to oppose. Whatever happened, Pansy was struck with the certainty that she still had her best friend. She realised, in the moment her friend hugged her neck, that she’d never appreciated Daphne Greengrass more. 

“I love you, you weirdo,” Pansy said across the table, only Daphne clearly wasn’t listening, her blue eyes fixated at a point directly over Pansy’s right shoulder. 

“Here she is!” the blonde exclaimed, excitedly, getting to her feet again. Pansy turned her head just in time to see a familiar face bobbing its way amongst the other tables towards them. Pansy smiled and joined Daphne on her feet just as Millicent got arrived at their table. 

“Hi, girls!” Millicent cried as she rushed to hug first Pansy and then Daphne, in turn. “How are you both?”

Both Pansy and Daphne exchanged polite niceties with their friend, who had pulled up her own seat and was beckoning to the waiter nearby. “I’ll have what,” Millicent paused, her eyes dashing between Pansy and Daphne’s drinks, eventually she settled on Daphne’s looking the most appealing, and pointing to the beverage she continued, “one of those, please.”

The waiter nodded and turned on his heel at her request, and as she removed her coat, Millicent dipped her voice and muttered a pointed, “Okay, how are you both,  really ?” Pansy and Daphne shared a thousand words with one look, and one slight nod from Daphne, was all Pansy needed to be persuaded to tell Millicent everything she had just shared with Daphne. 

“Shit!” Millicent exclaimed once Pansy had finished telling the story of her being appointed Head Girl, to Rabastan’s night time visit, to her newfound information about her father’s chosen vocation. “That’s...a lot, are you okay, Pans?”

Pansy swallowed, “Yeah, I-I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“Babe, I really don’t think you are okay,” Daphne interjected, never one for subtlety. 

“I agree with Daph,” Millicent said, reaching across the table and grabbing one of Pansy’s hands in her own for a second. “We’re here for you.” Daphne nodded enthusiastically at Millicent’s words.

“Whatever you need,” Daphne agreed, before contemplating for a few seconds, “I wonder who Head Boy will be?”

“Probably Draco,” Pansy said, “it makes sense for them to do the same for him as they did for me.”

“Imagine if it’s not, though,” Millicent mused, “imagine living with Macmillan, or Finch-Fletchley...or Longbottom!” she added with a cackle that Daphne matched. 

Pansy rolled her eyes at her friends. “Well, Longbottom wasn’t even a Prefect so that seems unlikely.”

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning us,” Millicent said, a feigned look of hurt suddenly present on her face.

“That’s what I said,” Daphne stated, her eyes shining as she struggled to keep a straight face, “see Pans, Millie agrees, you are awful.”

Millicent nodded as she reached for her newly delivered Sex on the Beach. “Positively terrible.”

“Well, if reputations are to be upheld, the  Queen Bitch of Slytherin  can’t be seen as anything less than awful and terrible now, can I?”

“Well,” Millicent began, “you do have a point, there.”

“I feel like  the most  important thing to discuss isn’t Pansy’s ridiculous demand to move into the Head Quarters to make room for all the sacrificial altars and jars of unicorn blood she needs, is  who,”  she pointed at Millicent and Pansy in turn, “is going to  get it on,  with who?” Pansy didn’t miss the slight colouring of Millicent’s cheeks at Daphne’s question and watched with intrigue Millicent asked Daphne if she was still sleeping with Theo, something that Daphne had been doing for the majority of the last two years.  Interesting,  Pansy thought to herself as her eyes met Millicent’s and a momentary plea of silence crossed over Millicent’s brown iris’. 

“Mer-lin NO!” Daphne replied, having obviously missed the fleeting blush over Millicent’s face. “He was such a pig to me, and besides,” she pushed herself further upright in her chair, and as Pansy and Millicent exchanged another look, Pansy knew that the whole reason that Daphne had started the conversation was about to be revealed. “A certain Mr Zabini  might  have been owling me  all summer,  even when I was in America.” The beam now present on Daphne’s face was infectious. “Girls, I think I’m  in love ,” she whispered the last two words, as though afraid of them.

“That’s great, Daph,” Millicent said, and Pansy couldn’t help but wonder if she had only imagined the touch of relief in Millicent’s tone. “What about you, Pans? Are you and Draco still on?”

Pansy’s mouth twisted as she contemplated the question. In many ways the answer should be simple, it  should  be yes. An  easy yes. They’d been drawn together since First Year, and  first  was something of a running theme between them. First kiss, first... everything . Draco was, in many ways, a danger. His involvement with the Death Eaters, and the fact he’d taken the Mark without too much prompting, however misguided, not to mention his proximity to the situation in which got Albus Dumbledore killed, should be enough to make anyone want to run a million miles from the Malfoy heir. But it had never felt that way, not to Pansy. In fact, he’d always felt the very opposite of dangerous. 

Draco Malfoy was Pansy’s safety net. 

And yet, after last year, especially towards the end, the connection they shared had shifted. It was still raw and real and they were still, in many ways, everything to the other, but Pansy didn’t know if the them that was a couple could ever come back.

“I don’t feel like that about him now,” Pansy told the other girls, “after last year, he got so...ill, you know?” Pansy watched both Daphne and Millicent nod. It hadn’t been a secret, Pansy doubted that anyone in Hogwarts hadn’t noticed Draco’s dwindling sense of self at one point or another. “I ended up feeling more...responsible for him than attracted to him. It’s like he was mine, he’s  always  been mine, and probably always will be, but maybe just not in that way anymore.”

Both her friends offered a smile at Pansy’s words. “Do you know what’s funny?” Daphne began, “take out the not attracted part, because obviously he has been seriously attracted to you, but that’s exactly how he’s always felt about you, Pans. It’s like you’re his, to protect. It’s lovely.”

Pansy gave a small nod. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“See, Pans, even when everything feels like shit, you’ll always have people who would do anything for you.” Pansy offered her best friend a soft smile, hoping that somehow, despite the terrifying state that their world was now in, that Daphne was correct. She needed them all. 

 

She needed them, always. 


	5. Some Things Need To Be Faced Alone

The next few days passed in a Daphne-tinted blur. A daze of shopping, alcohol, and taking advantage of the end of the summer rays at the Greengrass’ holiday home - a lodge situated on the Dorset coast, filled the remainder of their summer. Millicent, unlike Pansy, had opted to spend the rest of the holidays with her family and had bid the girls farewell after their afternoon cocktail catch up, and so Pansy spent the remainder of the summer with Daphne, and Daphne’s sister Astoria. Both sisters were now an impressive shade of golden brown, and even Pansy, whose skin usually had a tendency to annoyingly stick to a cycle of white, burnt, peeling burnt, and then back to white, had a healthy looking glow, compared to her usual paler-than-pale colouring.

“Ugh! I can’t believe it’s the last day of the holidays tomorrow,” Daphne commented. The bikini-clad blonde was laying atop a striped green sunlounger, her long hair framed her face in two long plaits, her eyes were covered by a pair of oversized gold-framed sunglasses.

“I know,” Pansy had rather got used to being close to water, which was her favourite place to be; especially from living in the Slytherin dungeons for six years. She’d loved it, from the very moment she first entered her common room...

 

* * *

 

__

_“We’re in the dungeons, mostly under the lake. It is believed most of the rock naturally eroded leaving the bulk of the room which became our common room-” Pansy hadn’t really understood what the fifth-year_ prefect _girl was talking about. “-the area was expanded, the dormitories were then created by Salazar Slytherin himself. They all feature windows directly into the lake, just like the common room does.”_

__

Wait! What? _Pansy had managed to understand something in all that drivel, their windows looked into the lake._

__

_The lake has always been called ‘The Black Lake’, the_ prefect _continued, turning to lead them down a staircase, “but it only appears black if you look at it from a distance. In reality, as you’ll see, it’s quite clear; the merpeople make sure of that._

__

Wow! Merpeople? For reals?

__

_The small group had come to a stop in front of a seemingly blank stretch of wall, Pansy and Daphne glanced at each other, eyes wide._

__

_“_ Sanguinem _,” the_ prefect _declared. One more glance at Daphne showed she was just as baffled as Pansy was. The stone wall began to move._

__

Oh!

__

_The shuddering wall revealed a stone archway, big enough to walk through and the new Slytherin first years trooped into their common room for the first time. Pansy hadn’t been quite prepared for the sight that greeted her - walking through the maze of the Hogwarts dungeons, she had felt shivery, and, though she’d never_ admit _it aloud, a tad scared. But, luckily, the Slytherin common room was a stark contrast to the cold, plain stone corridors she’d walked down only moments ago. The large, roughly circular room still had dark grey, stone walls, but these walls were different; they were almost glistening,_ almost glittering, _Pansy thought in amazement. There was a large fireplace which seemed to serve as a main focal point over to the right of the small group. The fireplace itself seemed to be made of a single, huge piece of cut dark green marble which housed a roaring fire. The floor was not, as Pansy had imagined, made of the same stone the floors of the dungeon corridors were, but_ of  a _deep, walnut coloured wood. Comfy looking, yet elegant couches stood at various points. The lighting was dim, the fire radiating a fair amount of both heat and light, yet Pansy realised the main source of light came from the windows. Even though it was now night time, the_ prefect _had been right, the windows were enormous, so massive in fact, that each one simply replaced the wall it was situated on. Moonlight streamed into the room from all sides through the clearest water Pansy had ever seen. Her eyes greedily attempted to see as much as she could as she spotted a shoal of small silvery fish dart past a window-wall to their left._

__

 

* * *

 

Sitting up, Pansy watched the waves of the English Channel lapping continuously onto the sand in front of them.

“We’d better go,” Daphne interrupted Pansy’s reminiscent thoughts. “Think dinner will be ready? I’m starving.”

“Doing fuck all definitely works up an appetite,” Pansy mused.

“Doesn’t it just?” Daphne agreed.  She grabbed her towel and bag, and picked up her wand before casually checking no muggles were nearby. “You ready?” Seeing Pansy’s nod, Daphne continued, “Okay, see you there,”  and the blonde apparated away with a small pop. Pansy looked towards the waves again, allowing herself to become momentarily entranced. She gave the water a brief, slight smile and apparated back to the lodge herself.

“Good day, girls?” Freyja enquired. All Pansy and Daphne could do was eagerly nod, their mouths stuffed. Every time Pansy thought Freyja, or more accurately Tula, had served the best version of a meal Pansy had ever tried, somehow she was always proven wrong. The steak pie on her plate was indeed the best steak pie she’d ever eaten, despite knowing she’d claimed that the last time she’d eaten the dish. Freyja smiled, looking from Daphne, to Astoria and finally to Pansy. She looked the picture of happiness surrounded by what she called her girls, the sentiment having always extended to Pansy as well as her own daughters. Daphne’s father tended to be absent more than he was present, and the three young women knew Freyja was happiest when she was surrounded by her girls.

“Pansy dear,” Freyja began, “your mother-” her eyes narrowed as she spoke the word; her and Lilith having always held very different ideals on the subject of motherhood, “-owled again this morning. The letter is on the dresser in your room.” Oh, fantastic.

Pansy sighed, smiling at the Greengrass matriarch. “Thanks, she’s probably wondering if I’ll be going back at any point before Hogwarts.”

Astoria snorted, “For what, one day?”

Pansy swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes. She didn’t want to spend the short remainder of her holiday having the same debate she always ended up having. “I might go for an hour or something tomorrow. There is some stuff I want to pick up as well.”

Freyja nodded, her eyes kind. Astoria regarded Pansy sympathetically and offered a comforting smile; Daphne wrinkled her nose, shrugged, then quipped, “Rather you than me, but, you know, with me if you need.”

Pansy sniggered. “It’s alright Daph, I won’t subject you to such horror.”

Daphne’s expression changed to one of concern, “I really will come if you want-”

“It’s fine, honestly. I’ll be okay.” Pansy smiled at her best friend, not really feeling like smiling at all, but she knew Daphne wasn’t lying, and she would have come. Daphne would have spent all day alone with Lilith if Pansy needed, but she didn’t. _Some things need to be faced alone. Things like she-hags._

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind.”

The rest of Pansy’s evening passed in a sleepy, relaxed, and for the most part, happy mood. Daphne had declared the end of the day was best spent with copious amounts of wine, much to the agreement of the other three. Freyja included herself in the face masks, nail painting and drinking games and actually giggled as she declared, “Because you all know I’m still a girl at heart.”

A few hours and many glasses later, Daphne emitted a loud scream and promptly ran away after removing a towel from Pansy’s head. The ‘fun experiment’, or at least that was what Daphne had called it, included a certain something the Muggles called ‘bleach’.

“Daphne...” Pansy’s eyebrows were raised. “What’s wrong?” Daphne didn’t answer and instead attempted to hide in the washing up bowl in the sink.

“Hiya Pans,” Daphne slurred through intermittent hiccups, a dopey smile etched on her face. “You know you’re pretty, right? Hey, can you help me get my bum out of this bowl?”

“Daphne!” Pansy repeated, eyebrows still elevated, and eyes wide as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Why is my hair fucking _green_?”

 

* * *

 

**  
  
**

_Please tell me there’s Sober-Up_. Pansy awoke the next morning with a start. _Was that a roar?_  She had a horribly dry mouth, a pounding head and conflicting, nausea-inducing knowledge that she needed to both throw up and eat a fry up: in that order. Turning carefully to her right, she didn’t yet trust her body would be able to handle any sudden movements, Pansy observed the seemingly comatose body lying beside her. Daphne, usually the very image of perfection was lying, eagle spread, in the shape of a five-point star, in the very centre of the large bed. Well, thank fuck it’s a king size. Daphne’s mouth was not only gaping wide, but emitting snores that were, for one, heinously loud, and two, seemed to last around 30 seconds each. That explains the roar. Her blonde locks, which usually fell down her back in an impeccably stylish mixture of sleek with a hint of Daphne’s trademark messiness, was currently strewn over the bedcovers. It was impossible to tell where it began or ended. _Good grief, Daph. Your hair could rival Granger’s._

Pansy sat up tentatively, the light that was attempting to permeate the heavy curtains was slight, but had already forced the pain in Pansy’s head to worsen. Gah! Nope, shouldn’t have done that. Tipping her head forward, Pansy placed her forehead in her hands and let out a very audible groan. She remained there, perfectly stationary, for the better part of what felt like ten minutes, before deciding that whatever symptom this hangover felt inclined to present her with, it would more than likely be an improvement over the absolute earache caused by Daphne’s cave-bear-esque snoring. Moving her hands slowly away from her forehead, Pansy felt parts of her hair falling in front of her face. She knew she was risking her headache pounding even harder by opening just one eye and allowing any form of light to penetrate her eyeballs, but then again, she weighed up the alternative. The roars of the she-beast here aren’t helping my head, anyway. Braving the impending sting she knew was going to grace her sight, Pansy slowly opened her eyes. What the fuck!

What Pansy had not expected was to be met by streaks of a luminescent bright green, and what she really hadn't expected was a memory that washed over her all at once like a sort of remembrance tidal wave. Why is my hair fucking green? “Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh no! Daphne! DAPHNE!” The blonde exhaled loudly, grunted, and propelled herself clumsily onto her side, facing away from Pansy and her bright green head. _Oh no you fucking don’t._ Grabbing her wand, Pansy cast a quick silencing charm over the bedroom, before pressing the length of walnut against her throat, staring daggers into the back of Daphne’s head. “Sonorus,” she muttered with narrowed eyes...“DAPHNEEEE!”

The reaction to the amplifying charm was instantaneous, and, to Pansy, hilarious. It had been more than worth heightening the effects of her sore head to see Daphne literally jump three feet into the air above the bed.

“WHAT THE- WHAT!? PANS? MUM! ASTORIA! ARE YOU THERE? WHERE’S TULA? TULAAAAA!”

Daphne stopped shouting long enough to look around, wide-eyed, her face the picture of alarm. She dropped her gaze to Pansy, who had, in turn, fallen onto the bed and was crying with the loudest and most booming laugh a very confused Daphne had ever heard. Pansy sat up, attempting to keep her face straight.

“LOOK AT MY FUCKING HAIR, YOU BITCH!” she managed to gasp, or because she hadn’t yet lifted the amplifying charm, a more correct description would have been she managed to blare.

“Turn your voice down you crazy fuck!” Daphne screeched, borderline hysterical.

“OH, RIGHT. OKAY I’LL DO IT NOW, WHAT’S THE COUNTER CHARM AGAIN?” Pansy boomed some more.

“You’re so not funny,” Daphne retorted, grabbing her own wand, aiming it at her emerald-haired best friend, and said, “Quietus.”

“Oh yeah, that’s what it is.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.” Daphne stuck her tongue out. “So, you look nice. Brings out your eyes that colour does. You’re welcome.”

“Oh yes, thank you so-” Pansy enunciated the words to emphasise her sarcasm, “-so much.”

Lying back down, Daphne yawned. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

“You can fix my hair now.”

“I meant it, it suits you. Night.” Daphne’s eyes closed.

Picking up a large pillow, Pansy raised her arms above her head, and brought her arms over in a large arch, promptly hitting Daphne in the side of the head.

“Nnnnnahumph! What was that for?”

“Get up, Daphne.”

“Ugh, fine. Did you know you can be a total drama queen?”

 

* * *

 

_Pop!_

Pansy opened her eyes, still reeling slightly from the apparition. _I’ll never get used to that._ She scanned the living room. It was a space which had encapsulated so much of her lonely childhood, until she’d become inseparable from Daphne, of course. The room looked little different, as though everything within its walls, from the expensive floor covering, to the very mantelpiece Pansy had taken down her sixth birthday cards from, had become frozen in time; the last eleven years merely a blip on the tapestry of this room’s own timeframe.

Pansy almost wished she felt sad, grief even, for the fact that this area no longer felt like any kind of home; it hadn’t for a long time. No more did she feel any sense of joy that she had essentially managed to leave her dismal upbringing behind her.

In fact, Pansy felt very little for the place in which she now stood. Her disinterested expression echoing her emotional detachment. As a child, Pansy had grown increasingly good at pretending to be happy. In the few long weeks she’d spend back in her parents house at the beginning of the month, during which she’d overheard her father and Rabastan Lestrange discussing their sinister pastimes, Pansy had quickly realised she’d lost her ability to mask her utter disappointment that radiated from her every wretched second she spent confined to the Parkinson homestead.

_Click._

_Clack._

_Click._

_Clack._

The sound of Lilith’s trademark high heels approaching caused Pansy’s eyes to snap shut once more. She debated silently whether to simply apparate away. She knew her mother would already know she was here.

The door that connected the living room to the hallway suddenly pushed inwards. Lilith Parkinson was standing in the doorway, her posture poker straight, her face perfectly emulating Pansy’s own indifferent gaze.  

“Your father and I would like to speak to you. He’s waiting in his study.” _Oh, well it’s nice to see you too._ Lilith was regarding her daughter with a cold disinterest. Pansy was half-wishing she had waited until after this little family reunion before she’d gotten Freyja to glamour her hair back to it’s regular ebony shade. Daphne, it transpired, had ended up proving herself to be incredibly useless in correcting her bleaching experiment. You’d be looking even more disappointed if you’d seen me this morning, Mother dearest.

“Right, fine.” Pansy strode towards the door, not bothering to look at Lilith a moment longer than she needed. Lilith stepped backwards, allowing her daughter to march haughtily past.

Pansy’s stride didn’t falter as she navigated the wide hallway. She glanced at her surroundings immediately. This place, this house, felt wrong somehow, just like realising a once-familiar person is now a stranger. Pansy didn’t stop until she found herself in front of the door leading to Cassius’ study.

Hearing the same click-clacking which indicated her mother was approaching her rear, Pansy took a deep breath before knocking on the door once, curtly. Not seeing any need as to why she should wait for an answer, Pansy opened the door and entered the study.

Cassius’ study was a room that had, throughout Pansy’s life, remained off-limits. The room, whilst not exactly large, could definitely be described as grand. Dark wood panelling covered the lower half of the walls, and the corresponding upper half was painted a decadent, deep moss green. The dark wood flooring matched the wall panelling perfectly, which in turn matched the furnishings, all of which were the same espresso coloured wood.

Pansy, however, noticed neither the wall panelling or the flooring. She didn’t see the furniture or the deep green walls. Her eyes opened wide and remained staring, unblinking, at a smiling, familiar face. Breathing suddenly ragged, Pansy realised, despite the warmth of summer still residing around her, she felt an uncontrollable shiver creep its way up her spine.

 

_Why, oh Gods, why? Is Rabastan Lestrange here?_


	6. Wait for my Owl

Had there been a mirror within Pansy’s line of sight she would have seen that her pale face, although perhaps whiter than usual, had somehow managed to stay the epitome of calm. 

Internally, she was screaming. 

Focussing on nothing but keeping her breathing steady, Pansy watched Rabastan’s mouth twist, the corners upturning, dimples forming in a line on each cheek. His barely-a-smile smile gave Pansy the uncomfortable feeling it was rarely used for social niceties. Rabastan Lestrange was  probably totally hot when he was younger , as Daphne had argued, and indeed, even Pansy couldn’t view him as an unattractive man. He was tall- ish,  and although hard to tell due to the large leather waistcoat, similar to a Muggle biker cut, he looked to still have a reasonably fit physique. The top half of his head was covered with a mop of thick curls, the shade only lighter than Pansy’s by a smidge. He wore his facial hair in the form of a moustache and a goatee-style beard covering his chin. His skin, unlike so many of his fellow formerly-incarcerated Death Eaters, wasn’t sallow, nor did it feature the same permanently wild haunted look that Pansy had come to associate with the few times she had seen his sister-in-law Bellatrix. 

It was his eyes, however, that were Rabastan’s most striking feature. They bored into Pansy’s own, too grey to be blue, yet too blue to be grey; two pools of sheer ice both physically and metaphorically, they held no trace of warmth in either colour or appearance. 

Pansy glanced at her father, the first time she had done so since entering the study. Cassius was sitting behind his desk, seemingly having eyes for nothing and no one bar the lowball glass he was currently turning through his long fingers. The short tumbler encased a small measure of brown liquid Pansy easily identified as firewhisky.

Exhaling a deep breath Pansy hadn’t realised she’d been holding, she turned her attention back to Rabastan, now on his feet and making the few steps needed to close the gap between the two of them.  You seriously could have stayed where you were.

“Pansy.” The way Rabastan voiced her name sent a lone shiver throughout Pansy’s entire upper body. Never particularly  liking  her name, Pansy had grown accustomed to it, and even begrudgingly admitted that it somehow suited her. But now, the way in which Rabastan said the word with his raspy drawl, Pansy realised she hated how her name sounded when the sound rolled off  his  lips. She watched the man in front of her open his arms as he firmly clasped each of Pansy’s shoulders. His icy iris’ peered into her own green ones before he pushed a rough, stubble-clad cheek against her own, he proceeded to hold there far longer than Pansy deemed was necessary, wanting nothing more than to tell him to stop touching her face,  you creepy fuck!

Rabastan finally drew himself away from her, taking a single, slight step back, his hands remaining lodged on Pansy’s shoulders. She watched his face as it distorted into the same twisted smile as before as though the very act of smiling in such a circumstance was foreign.  Which to him,  Pansy knew,  it probably was.

“Your father,” Rabastan began as he gestured in the general direction of Cassius’s desk behind him. Pansy decided to take advantage of the release of his right hand from her left shoulder and sidestepped away from the Death Eater, instead perching herself on a nearby chair, “-invited me to your home in the hope that we could all get to know,” his frosty gaze lingered on Pansy’s face as he said the last word, before unashamedly drifting southwards. He openly leered at Pansy’s body, prompting her to cross both arms over her chest and hide as much of herself as she could whilst struggling to maintain a great deal of self-control. Normally, anyone, except, apparently, this psychopathic murderer ,  who stared at her so unreservedly would have been, at worst, unapologetically cursed and, at best, hurled with obscenities.  My face is up here, dickhead,  “-each other a bit better.” Rabastan concluded; demented smile and lingering eyes both back in place with a vengeance.  What? Umm no, thank you.

Pansy didn’t dare voice her lack of enthusiasm as her eyes searched the office. Lilith stood by the door, having clearly entered the room at some point in the conversation without Pansy’s notice. Cassius stared into his tumbler of firewhisky, the same look of disinterest still etched upon his aging face. Rabastan was standing with his backside leaning casually on Cassius’ large desk, arms loosely crossed, his right leg folded in front of his left with the toe of his right boot resting on the dark wooden floor. He looked at her with an expectant air.

“Ehh...” Pansy began. She had nothing.  What the fuck am I supposed to say?  Pansy took a deep breath, willing herself to say something.  At this point, anything will do, brain! 

Thankfully, Pansy was spared the daunting task of replying to Rabastan’s statement as Cassius’s whisky glass shot into the air landing three feet to the left. The Parkinson patriarch, who was on further inspection currently clenching both fists, had his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Pansy watched her father take several deep breaths as his expression became thunderous. Rabastan was watching him with eyebrows raised, his face a condescending smirk.

“We, err-” Cassius blustered, his voice a deeper pitch than usual. “Rabastan and I, I mean, we need to go.”

Pansy was slightly confused at the sudden change of events and frowned to hide her delight.  Thank fuck.

“Yeah, sorry, Pans,” Rabastan said as he turned once more to face Pansy.  You do not get to call me Pans!

“Tell you what, I’ll write you at Hogwarts. We’ll arrange something.” It wasn’t a question. 

Rabastan moved towards Pansy again and once more his mouth was so uncomfortably close to her ear that she could feel his hot breath against the side of her head. Finding herself completely enclosed by the arms that were now, for some awful reason, enclosing her, she felt a sudden rush of panic. You need to get away from me now,  Pansy thought, willing her breaths to remain even despite their threats to become ragged.  What the fuck are my parents getting me involved in?

“Wait for my owl, yeah, Pans?” It was barely more than a scratchy whisper. All Pansy had left within her, all she could muster before her ability to breathe easily deserted her, before her tears began to fall, betraying her, was one solitary nod. Rabastan chastely kissed her cheek before standing up and strolling towards the door. The Death Eater didn’t look back, and neither did Cassius as he followed Rabastan into the hallway, muttering something about the dining room floo.

“It gets easier. The burning’s less and less each time.” Pansy heard Rabastan say, his voice quickly becoming fainter as the two men departed further up the corridor. 

 

* * *

 

“Does it hurt?” Pansy asked, caressing the pale skin. 

“No,” Draco had replied, simply. “I mean, it does when you get it, and it burns like a bitch when he’s…” he trailed off. 

Nodding her head, choosing not to press the matter, Pansy sat up in the four poster and pulled one of Draco’s grey t-shirts over her head. Draco followed suit, swinging his legs over the side of his bed whilst simultaneously Accio-ing himself clean clothes.  

“I’d better go. You okay to show yourself out?” 

“Charming,” Pansy snorted, “but yes, I believe I can find my way back.” She watched as Draco finished dressing, taking extra care to make sure his left forearm was indeed covered. “You don’t have to go, you know. We could stay here like we used to.”

“Pans, you know I can’t. I’ve told you.” Draco looked at her, a strained expression on his pale face. Pansy knew she was exasperating him; it was already the tenth time she had attempted the same conversation, which always ended in a similar fashion. 

“I just wish,” she began, chewing the inside of her cheek, knowing she needed to choose her words carefully, “there was a different way,” she finished, rather pitifully.  

Draco was already on his feet, facing the dormitory door. He sighed, looking down at his once-girlfriend. “Just promise me something, Pans?” Pansy’s green eyes met his grey.

“Promise you won’t ever get mixed up in this bullshit.” Pansy smiled sadly in response, nodding as she watched Draco leave. 

 

* * *

 

Lilith cleared her throat, Pansy had, quite honestly, almost forgot her mother was present within the room. “Come on now, Pansy. Out of your father’s study.” 

“Don’t worry,  mother,”  she emphasised the word slowly, glaring at Lilith. “I’m not hanging around,” Pansy snapped in the second before she disapparated.


	7. Back to Hogwarts

 

“So, you’ll have to go to the prefect’s carriage again, right?” Daphne asked.

 

“Yeah, I’m supposed to be there in five minutes.”

 

“Okay, help me find Blaise or Millie first?”

 

“Done!” Pansy laughed, elbowing Daphne and pointing to four familiar figures less than ten feet away from where the girls were. Daphne’s face morphed into a wide smile as she ran along the crowded platform, before promptly flinging herself into Blaise Zabini. “I’ve missed you!” Pansy heard Daphne squeal as she approached. Her own smile grew as she hugged Theo, Millicent, Blaise, and Draco, respectively. Draco squeezed her for the longest of the four.

 

“You okay?” She heard him mutter, and Pansy felt a strange wobble in her emotions as she withdrew from their embrace and looked at her long time friend. She wasn’t  _ in love  _ with Draco anymore, in fact, she was unsure if she ever was, but she  _ did _ love him, and she knew, in that moment, that he was probably the only other person that could understand her right now. She’d been the one he’d turned to last year when his doubts spoke to himself too loudly. She’d been the one who had known, with a heavy heart, who had enabled the Death Eaters to enter the school; because she’d been the only one he trusted enough to break down in front of, she’d been the one he’d screamed and trashed half of his possessions in front of. She was the one he had held onto, the one whose arms had held a tear-stained Draco Malfoy as he gasped for breath and chanted  _ ‘What have I done?’  _ over and over. 

 

“Not really.” Pansy couldn’t bring herself to lie.

 

Draco nodded, and his hand squeezed her arm. “Come on. We better go find the prefects. Oh, and by the way...” Draco pulled a small something from within an inner pocket of his suit jacket. It was a small badge, almost identical to her own, the only difference being his was emblazoned with ‘Head Boy’. He looked at her with raised eyebrows. 

 

“Oh, well thank fuck it’s you! Can you imagine me living with Finch-Fletchley?” Pansy said with relief.

 

Draco laughed, “Fuck no!”

 

“Was yours a bullshit promise to your parents as well?”

 

“Yep, have you met the Carrows, yet?”

 

“No, they’re just,” Pansy’s hands air quoted, “-old friends of my dad’s-” she snorted, “-apparently.”

 

“They’re thick as shit,” Draco said before steering her towards the correct carriage. The pair turned and raised a hand each to their fellow Slytherins before climbing onto the train. Pansy and Draco had enough time to quickly charm the blinds across the windows, lock both side doors, and change into their school robes. Neither were particularly bothered about remaining decent in front of the other, having both seen the other in countless versions of undress over the years of their friendship, relationship, and the happy middle they had unspokenly arranged between themselves the previous year. 

 

“Okay, unlock the door,” Pansy instructed, pinning her new badge onto the front of her robes. 

 

One by one, the new and remaining prefects started to slowly appear. Pansy kept her eyes firmly on the one side she was sure Granger would appear in, rather looking forward to rubbing the Gryffindor’s face in the fact she had the badge that Granger would no doubt have expected to receive. 

 

But no Granger appeared.

 

_ She’s not actually dead, is she? _

 

In fact, neither Gryffindor seventh-year prefects appeared at all. The Weasley girl, who Draco had dubbed years previously ‘Weaslette’ had stomped in. Pansy wasn’t even certain Weaslette had been a prefect the previous year. She glowered briefly at Pansy and sat with her arms crossed in a clear huff at the Head placements. The train began to move, and Pansy frowned at Draco who shrugged, his brow furrowed. He had clearly also noticed the very obvious lack of both Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. 

 

Draco turned to Weaslette, “Are your brother and his girlfriend planning to make an appearance anytime soon?”

 

“Doesn’t look like it, Malfoy,” Ginny snapped.  _ Bloody hell, who stuck a wand up your arse?  _

 

Pansy cleared her throat, ready to address the prefects when she was stopped by a knock on the carriage door. Draco frowned again before flicking his wand and swinging the door ajar.

 

“Errr, is this the prefect's carriage?” Pansy heard a familiar voice query.

 

_ What on Earth? _

 

“Yes,” Draco retorted, his usual attitude of superiority hanging in the air.

 

“Right, good. Apparently Ron and Hermione may not be here this year, so McGonagall made me a prefect.”

 

“McGonagall made  _ you  _ a  _ prefect? _ ” Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fucking hell.”  Draco was scrutinising the newcomer as a tall figure entered the carriage and selected a seat beside Weaslette. “Right. Before we get interrupted  _ again-”  _ Draco said, glaring, “-as you were, Pans.”

 

Pansy, on the other hand, for reasons that were mostly far beyond her comprehension, was less composed

 

“Huh? Oh right,” Pansy fumbled for words, looking down onto the blank timetable she had started to write that morning. She barely saw the parchment, however, her thoughts awry.  _ Why the hell does Neville fucking Longbottom look really fit? _

  
  


Pansy would later ask herself  _ why _ the appearance of a late Neville Longbottom appearing in the prefect’s carriage of the Hogwarts Express had caused her such distraction.  _ Far more distraction than it warranted, anyway. _ She had blundered her way through the meeting, becoming in many ways the polar opposite of the cool, and at times cruel, but collected, persona she’d perfected before even the start of first year. She’d achieved absolutely nothing in her first duty as Head Girl; her timetable had remained blank, and Draco had been forced to take over after ten minutes of Pansy’s nonsensical ramblings about irrelevant floor plans.

 

Right now, however, Pansy’s mind was otherwise occupied. The Sorting Ceremony had concluded far sooner than the preceding years.

 

_ “ _ There aren’t any Muggle-borns this year, are there?” Daphne whispered to her fellow seventh years. Draco looked silently at his empty plate, shaking his head slowly. The hardened expression on his face having been so perfectly mastered through the years, it was only Pansy that was able to pick up on the sadness in his eyes. Theo glanced at Pansy, with a small smile upon his face, his eyebrows lifted as his shoulders raised in a slight shrug. Pansy knew Theo’s dad was close to Lucius Malfoy, though she was sure that Theo’s allegiance lay with Draco, and Draco’s heart did not lie with Voldemort. Blaise shifted uncomfortably in his seat, where he was sitting directly opposite Daphne and diagonal from Pansy. His dark, sculpted features looked troubled, although his face softened somewhat as Daphne offered him a reassuring smile. 

 

Millicent was seated slightly to Pansy’s left and further up the long Slytherin house table next to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. The latter two sat smirking at Daphne’s question. It was always a peculiar sight seeing another person so close to Crabbe and Goyle after years of Hogwarts being incredibly used to seeing Draco’s pale face there.  According to Daphne’s hushed whispers earlier as they climbed into their carriage after leaving the train, Crabbe and Goyle had spent the journey saying very little, but what they  _ did  _ say, involved a tremendous amount of boasting towards their plans to join Voldemort’s cause after Hogwarts. Once Pansy and Draco had appeared, after the  _ terribly flustering  _ meeting had long finished and their initial rounds of the train had ended, both boys hadn’t said a whole lot as their interest shifted hanging onto everything Draco had said, who, in turn, had barely acknowledged either of them.

 

At the table, Millicent seemed be attempting to distance herself from both Crabbe and Goyle, and was shifting herself closer to the rest of their friendship group. Her eyes, Pansy noticed, looked worried even when she forced her expression to remain nonplussed. Offering the brunette the hint of a comforting smile, Pansy mouthed a silent, ‘You okay?’ across the table. The corners of Millicent’s mouth twitched, her head bowing into a half nod, a nod that was cut short as Millicent seemed to change her mind, instead she averted Pansy’s gaze, and shrugged her shoulders. Pansy didn’t press Millicent further, mostly because she knew she felt in a similar bind, they all did. 

 

The Great Hall, which had already had a far more sombre atmosphere than Pansy had seen at Hogwarts as Severus Snape stood up, and lacked the distinct buzz of general chit chat. The absence of prattle had ensured the enormous room was already practically noiseless when the newly appointed headmaster rose to his feet. Pansy swivelled in her seat to allow her eyes to drift the length of the Great Hall., Craning her neck as subtly as she could, she paused when her eyes reached the Gryffindor table, the furthest away from the Slytherins. Pansy scanned the Gryffindors, only just making out the red and gold trim of their robes.   _ Where the hell is- _

 

Pansy gasped, far more audibly than she would have liked, causing Daphne to dart her head around towards her best friend. Luckily, no one but Daphne and Draco seemed to have noticed, the latter’s eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. Draco’s own gaze had followed Pansy’s instantaneously, and he had become aware, just as Pansy had, from across the sea of Hogwarts students that Neville Longbottom was watching the Pansy intently.

 

“What?” Daphne was spinning her head around, oblivious.

 

“Nothing,” Pansy whispered, feeling an embarrassing warmth spread over her cheeks.

 

“Bullshit!” Daphne’s tone was far louder than Pansy felt comfortable with, “What is it?”

 

“Daphne, shut up!” Pansy hissed back. “Watch Professor Snape, look,” she said as she gestured towards the High Table. Daphne narrowed her eyes into an expression Pansy was all too familiar with, an expression she knew meant that Daphne would not rest until she got what she wanted, or in this case, when she knew what she wanted to know.  _ Fucking Longbottom! _

 

“-in turn, it is the job of both Professors Carrow to report to myself whenever I may be-” Pansy became aware, all of a sudden that she hadn’t paid Professor Snape’s speech an iota of attention.  _ Well, that’s definitely Longbottom’s fault,  _ “-unavailable.” Snape elongated the last word as his dark eyes washed over the students, his expression incomprehensible. Pansy watched as Snape strode back to his seat, which, until that night the previous year, had always been occupied by Professor Dumbledore. Pansy was never a  _ fan _ of Dumbledore per se, and she’d known early in the year that Draco had been assigned the ridiculous task of killing him, but it had just never seemed plausible the old man would perish. Both her and Draco had known, deep down, that Draco wouldn’t have been able to carry it out. She’d cried for him many times, always alone, wondering what would happen when Draco had failed the impossible assignment. At the time, all she could do for the boy she cared so deeply for was to keep his bed warm and provide an uncomplicated, painless distraction. 

 

Pansy looked at the two seats adjacent to Professor Snape’s; she didn’t recognise the occupants but knew instantaneously who they must be:  _ the infamous Carrows.  _ Both Amycus, and his sister Alecto alike, were rather unremarkable in appearance; Amycus was a rather foul-tempered looking middle-aged man, Alecto an equally foul-tempered looking middle-aged woman. 

 

At the precise moment Snape’s heavily cloaked behind was back in his chair, the serving plates in the middle of each table suddenly filled with a number of house-elf prepared food. A small murmuring began to fill the atmosphere. It was still a distinct difference in volume from previous years, where the din of hundreds of voices could become overwhelming. Tonight, the student body as a whole was reserved in its chatter as though the starting of the school year was a strain.  _ Because it _ is _ a strain _ , Pansy thought, suddenly, the truth of her realisation hitting her with a jolt. 

 

Pansy chewed her fingernails whilst everyone around her munched on the food. She wished nothing more than the opportunity to bury her face in her hands and either scream or cry, possibly both. 

 

“Pans?” 

 

Pansy wasn’t aware how long she had spent doing nothing, her mind a whirlwind of everything and nothing. When she realised Daphne’s hand was resting on her elbow, Pansy’s eyes flickered between Daphne’s face and her hand.

 

“It’s all going to shit, Daph.”

“I know,” Daphne’s reply was soft, and her eyes understanding. She turned her head to look at the two boys sitting opposite them, a worried expression clouding her perfect face.

 

Blaise sent Daphne a glance of understanding, before turning to Pansy, “We’ve got you Pans.” Pansy nodded, grateful for his sincerity. Despite knowing her eyes had become visibly watery, she managed to present Blaise with a small smile. Draco’s stormy grey eyes regarded Pansy soundlessly, yet still telling her a thousand truths.  _ He gets it. _

 

“You’ve got to eat,” Draco informed her, matter-of-factly. Pansy looked down at her empty plate, preparing to shake her head. “Eat,” Draco repeated, sternly, still scrutinising her. 

 

“Here.” Daphne had taken Pansy’s plate and had busied herself piling small amounts of various dishes onto it, “Draco’s right.” She placed the filled plate back into its space in front of Pansy before drawing her wand from her robes. “Close your eyes,” she  instructed as Pansy’s eyes snapped shut. She became aware of a slight tingling sensation covering her eyelids. She knew Daphne had magically cooled her face to help omit any signs of her tearful episode. Something the two best friends had perfected two years prior; Daphne because she has, according to herself, ‘a very ugly cry-face’, and Pansy because  _ a face with tears is not a pretty one. _

 

“Eat,” Daphne repeated Draco’s previous advice. 

 

“Okay,” Pansy replied softly, knowing she was clearly defeated and not believing for a second that Daphne wasn’t above force feeding. She took a small bite of an indistinguishable white meat.

 

_ Fucking war.  _

 

_ Fucking Rabastan’s impending letters.  _

 

_ Fucking Death Eater father.  _

 

_ Fucking Carrows. _

 

_ Fucking...Longbottom. _

 

Pansy’s cheeks flushed a deep scarlet as the thought crossed her mind and she took a large gulp of pumpkin juice, grateful none of her friends were accomplished Legilimens, as she willed her face to return to its usual colouring.

 

* * *

 

  
  


“Well-” Later that evening, Draco paused as he scanned the small, dimly lit living area, “-this is…” he gestured his hands in circular motions, clearly failing to think of a positive adjective to describe their surroundings. 

 

“-cosy?” Pansy ventured. Her eyes were wide, and her face was distraught. Her expression was almost one of fearfulness as she mimicked Draco’s visual browsing of the Head Boy and Girl’s shared common room.  _ This is not home,  _ she thought sadly.

 

“I don’t like  _ cosy _ .” Draco’s voice was laced with a trademark whining tone Pansy hadn’t heard for a while.  _ He used to reserve it for moaning about Potter,  _ Pansy thought with a sudden urge to snort with laughter.  

 

“I like  _ Slytherin,  _ and this shit-”  he continued, gesturing some more, his hands becoming more and more frantic as the conversation went on, “-looks like the setting for a fucking Hufflepuff’s tea party.” As he spoke the last few words Draco pointed to a small, framed print that was currently situated behind Pansy’s head. She spun around and was met with a picture of three large cupcakes, patterned pink and white. It didn’t match the pale blue wall on which it was hung upon in the slightest, she grimaced at the garish image before turning back towards Draco. “It’s not really  _ us,”  _ she had to agree.

 

“Not really,” Draco began, clearly abashed. By this point, Draco’s hand gestures had crescendoed into large, frantic arm movements as he began to stomp around the small sitting room. His thrashing, Pansy realised, cocking her head, made him rather resemble a skinny, pale whomping willow. “NOT REALLY US!? You’re bloody right it’s  _ not really us. _ ” At this point, Pansy was struggling terribly to keep a straight face, even in spite of her near breakdown only an hour or so ago at the feast. __ She was consumed with her seemingly constant inner struggles with everything she, her friends, and the whole of Wizarding Britain were facing. Plus, it really irked her that she had been unnecessarily made Head Girl for her father’s purposes and not her merit.  This, in turn, had forced her into living away from her solitude of her beloved Slytherin homestead and its large windows that looked directly into the lake. It was a view which Pansy had always been utterly convinced could cure a number of ailments just from its overwhelmingly calming presence. Not to mention how she would miss the bed she’d slept in for six consecutive years which stood, now empty, next to Daphne’s. Despite all of these troubles, Pansy still found herself trying not to laugh at Draco’s current tantrumming.

 

Professor McGonagall had found the pair directly after the feast had finished, and informed them sternly as she regarded the two coolly over her spectacles of the location of their new living quarters. They had found their dormitories hidden behind a painting on the third floor, which featured, of all things, a cow field. The third cow from the left had to be tapped three times with either the Head Boy or Girl’s wand, and a password spoken allowed. Once the cow had been tapped, a door had appeared magically in the stone, the painting directly in the centre of the top of the door, which had required no assistance in opening inwards. The two friends had stepped through a small hallway into…

 

“...the most hideous room I’ve  _ ever  _ been unfortunate enough to occupy. Seriously, Pans they expect us to  _ live  _ here.” Draco droned, clearly with no intention of giving up his tangent. He poked his right index finger into the back of the couch, a gaudy piece of furniture, fashioned in a faded mauve-coloured fabric _ ,  _ as he simultaneously shook his head.  _ I’ll give him that. That couch is fucking horrendous.  _ Pansy looked at her surroundings once more, her demeanour sorrowful and her heart heavy, wondering to herself what Daphne and the others were doing at that moment. She was already missing her underwater home more than she’d ever let on. 

 

“Come on,” Pansy said, to a still irate Draco, “let’s check out our rooms.”

 

“Oh, hold me back,” Draco snapped as he trudged towards to far end of the living room and exited through the only other door, muttering grumpily. Pansy was certain she heard the words ‘ _ my father’,  _ and had to stifle yet another desire to laugh. 

 

The door led to a small hallway, with were two more doors on either side, the right-hand one stood ajar and Pansy became aware of the sound of kitchen drawers opening and then slamming shut again. “ _ -for fuck's sake, _ ” she heard Draco muttering. Pushing the door further open, Pansy watched silently as a thunderous Draco was opening every drawer and cupboard the small kitchen housed with such maniacal ferocity it was a wonder the runners and hinges were still intact.

 

He stopped and looked Pansy, shaking his head seriously. “Pans, I’m not being funny, but this kitchen is the colour of hippogriff piss.” Examining the wall coverings for the first time, Pansy took a deep breath inwards and found herself almost choking at the sight; the kitchen was indeed decorated in the rather questionable colour scheme of the brightest yellow the witch had ever seen.  _ Bloody hell, who decorated this nauseating nightmare?  _ “-and all the shit in here,” Draco continued, gesturing at the right-hand wall, which housed the majority of the drawers and cupboards he’d been hurriedly investigating, “-looks about 150 bloody years old. Look!” He pulled out a small saucepan - which, once upon a time, Pansy supposed had been silver. The pan was now, however, coated with a sizeable covering of rust. Draco brandished it in Pansy’s face, causing her nose to wrinkle in disgust. Her wide eyes met Draco’s; two wild, grey thunderstorms that bored right into her, the way they always had. Pansy knew it wasn’t necessary to explain her coming sentiment:

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Yes,” Draco nodded in agreement, “Fuck.”

 

The rest of the tour of the Head’s Quarters continued in a similar vein. Draco’s metaphorical cage was rattled even more after exiting the bathroom which was situated directly opposite the kitchen, an ugly, dated green affair, which supplied a bath suite in an even uglier shade of green.

 

“You know my spew is usually a nicer colour than  _ that,”  _ Draco had spoken, clearly disgusted, pointing at the bathtub.

 

“Unfortunately for me, Draco, I did know that,” Pansy stated, gulping slowly, attempting to process the fact that she was going to have to use this bathroom.  _ Well, maybe not that often. _ “We’re still entitled to use the prefect’s bathroom.” 

 

“Thank Salazar for that!”

 

The bedrooms were at the top of a small staircase. The allocated sleeping quarters were decorated in deep burgundy colouring, with bright red accents throughout the curtains and bedding. Pansy swallowed hard.  _ This is not home.  _

 

From the window she was able to see a small fraction of the Quidditch pitch, an assortment of rolling green hills, and a small portion of the greenhouses.  _ I can’t even see the lake,  _ she observed to herself, dismally.

 

She was only jolted out of her wallowing by Draco’s hand placing itself onto her shoulder.

 

“Agh! Draco! I didn’t even hear you come in, you prat!”

 

Draco pulled a smirk Pansy knew all too well.

 

“That’s not funny,” Pansy pouted at him.

 

Draco’s eyebrows raised comically in blatant disagreement. Pansy scowled at her friend. 

 

“I realised something,” Draco began.   

 

Pansy cut him off. “Was it that you’re not funny?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m hilarious,” Draco paused, enabling himself to step away from Pansy’s oncoming swat to his arm. “No, just the final kick in the arse at the prospect of living in this dump for a year.”  

 

“Is it just you realising that we do, in fact, have to live in this dump for a year?”

 

“Close,” Draco sniggered.

 

_ At least he’s stopped throwing a Daphne Drama. _

 

“Enlighten me then, what is the final kick in the arse at the prospect of living in this dump for a year?”

 

“Haven’t you noticed the insultingly shit colour scheme?”

 

“In the kitchen?” Pansy shuddered as she remembered the buttercup-coloured walls.

 

“In the everything. Think about it, what colour is the living room?”

 

Pansy remembered the tired-looking powdered blue painted walls.

 

“Blue.”

 

“Correct. Now, we won’t even mention the kitchen as I doubt either of us will forget _that_ heap of shit in a hurry. Now,” Draco gestured around the bedroom surrounding them. A rush of understanding washed over Pansy, her eyes widening with the realisation as she examined her burgundy bedroom.

 

“Those pricks! They’ve made Slytherin that ugly fucking bog!”

 

Draco’s eyebrows were raised once more, nodding in an expression of disdainful agreement covering his pale features. “Drink?”

 

“What’ve you got?” 

 

“Well, Pans, that all depends.”

 

Pansy spun in the doorway of her new bedroom. “On  _ what _ exactly?”

 

“Well, I  _ might  _ have some rather fine Bungbarrel Spiced mead, and I  _ might  _ have some even finer fifty-year-old Danish firewhisky, but whether or not I choose to share depends on you.”

 

_ Oh, you are going to share.  _ Pansy deliberated her answer for a few seconds before deciding to humour him, “Depends on me  _ how  _ exactly?”

 

Draco walked towards the door and Pansy slowly. Grey eyes meeting green, his head cocked to the side but his eyes remained intently on her own. His top teeth bit down on his lower lip before flashing her a slight, cocky smile.  _ Very predictable, Draco.  _ Pansy rolled her eyes at the sheer entitlement of his terribly annoying confidence. Draco was level with her now, and he sidestepped past the witch nodding his head in the direction of the staircase, inviting her to follow him. “You can have as much booze as you want-” Draco moved into the landing, turned and stepped down onto the second step. “-once you explain to me why the hell you suddenly want to bone Longbottom.” 

  
  



	8. Stared Right Back

.The following morning Pansy awoke with a blinding headache, an incredibly dry mouth and her own startled scream.

 

The first two could absolutely be attributed to the fact that the previous night she and Draco had managed to demolish the majority of the alcohol that Draco had managed to sneak into Hogwarts. The third, her scream, was due to the fact she’d opened her eyes and remembered straight away that she was going to see the vile, pale blue living area she was now expected to call home. She was, therefore, wholly unprepared for what awaited beyond her eyelids and the sight of an unfamiliar house-elf’s face perched merely two inches away from her own.

 

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Pansy jumped to her feet, knocking the house-elf backwards as she attempted to locate her wand. “What the fuck? WHERE’S MY FUCKING- _ACCIO_ _WAND_!”

 

 _Hey, it worked!_ Pansy stopped, taken aback and pleasantly surprised at her wandless skill as the magical instrument flew into her hand. She became aware, all of a sudden, that a certain somebody was now standing beside her. Pansy turned to face Draco.

 

_Oh, he looks mad!_

 

“If it isn’t too much to ask,” growled Draco, clutching his own wand, “I’d prefer _not_ to be woken up by you giving me a fucking heart attack. Why the hell are you screaming the bloody place down? I mean-” Draco stopped, looking around dismally, his gaze landing on the cupcake picture. “Merlin, I forgot about _that._ Don’t get me wrong, screaming the place down would probably be an improvement to this dump, but still.”

 

Pansy gasped, her hand involuntarily smacking her own forehead as she realised she’d momentarily forgotten about the pair of large, slightly bloodshot brown eyes that had caused her such alarm. “An elf!” she shrieked.

 

Blinking, an unamused Draco looked Pansy up and down. “Are you still drunk?”

 

“What? No! Draco! There was an elf _here!”_ Her voice still slightly hysterical, she emphasised the last word, willing Draco to believe her. His expression had since shifted to one of amusement, “Draco, it’s face was in my face!” At this, Draco outright laughed. _Bastard._

 

“You found something stronger once I’d passed out, didn’t you?” Draco slouched back into the armchair he’d spent the night in, circling his neck whilst simultaneously rubbing his shoulders.

 

Pansy ignored him, her eyes darting around the living area, an uneasy feeling subconsciously creeping up on her. Her brow furrowed.

 

_What the fuck?_

 

Stomping through the door, Pansy now held a newfound determination to find the _definitely real_ elf. The kitchen door was already open, and Pansy could see the room was clearly vacant.  

 

_Where is that fucking elf?_

 

“Arghhhhh!” Pansy had just entered the small bathroom, attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to convince herself that she really shouldn’t check the bath, when Draco’s shout caused her, without thinking, to run back to the living room.

 

Draco was standing upright, his right hand grasped his wand while his left clutched a long, oval-shaped ear, reminiscent to that of a long-eared rabbit. However, attached to the ear, was not a rabbit, and instead, was…

 

“The elf! I told you it was here!”

 

Draco was looking completely abashed. “I closed my eyes for one fucking second and felt it-” Draco’s face crumpling into a disdainful sneer, he continued, his voice rife with disgust, “- _breathing_ on me. And it’s face was in my face!”

 

_Oh, really?_

 

“Oh, was it?” Pansy’s eyes narrowed, as she sarcastically replied, “I can’t possibly imagine what that’s like. Oh, tell you what. Why don’t I _just laugh. At. You? Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!”_

 

“Very mature, Pansy.”

 

_You literally threw a tantrum last night!_

 

The house-elf was gazing up at the Draco through its oversized eyes, it gave a tiny smile which caused Draco’s own eyes to widen, a look of alarm crossing his pale face. He turned to Pansy, clearly without any inkling of what his next course of action should be.

 

Draco paused for an incredibly long minute as the house-elf swayed slightly from its current, awkward, position. “What is it doing here?” he hissed at Pansy

 

_Well, this is new._

 

Until that moment, Pansy had felt fairly confident that she’d seen Draco Malfoy in almost every predicament possible. However, she felt entirely sure that this was the first instance where she’d witnessed her old friend, not only apparently at a loss for either words or actions, but with a strange house-elf swinging from his person. She pursed her lips together, willing herself not to burst into laughter at the unfolding scene.

 

“You are aware, are you not, Draco, that I know precisely as much you do right now regarding this-” Pansy gestured vaguely, “-elf’s presence here. Also, house elves do, actually, possess mouths, and do, in fact, have the ability to speak,” Draco narrowed his eyes, glaring at Pansy. Unaffected by his current frown, she continued, “And for Merlin’s sake put it down, you look fucking insane.”

 

Draco did unclench his fist, he did not, however, bother to move his hand downwards at all and the elf hit the floor with a, surprising, for its size, loud thud.

 

“What is wrong with you, Draco!?” Pansy demanded haughtily as she elbowed past him and kneeled in front of the elf. The big brown eyes, now watering, blinked up at her. “Say sorry!” Pansy snapped at Draco.

 

“I will do no such-”

 

“SAY SORRY!” Pansy heard her voice shout, enraged as she pulled the small elf to its feet.

 

“Fucking Merlin, Pansy. Alright-”, Draco sighed deeply. He had pinched the bridge of his nose and was shaking his head. “Unbelievable, a bloody _house-elf.”_ He sighed once more and snapped an unconvincing, “Sorry.”

 

Draco moved backwards a few steps, reaching his armchair once more and folded himself into it. “Since when do you care so much about house-elves?”

 

 _Since a house-elf was the first anything to show me any fucking kindness, you insufferable prick._ Pansy daren’t say the thought aloud. She looked at the elf in front of her, it’s face had momentarily shifted into an image of Tula, the Greengrass’s elf.

 

“You just shouldn’t have _dropped_ it like that,” Pansy mumbled, embarrassed by her earlier outburst, though slightly impressed that she’d managed to get Draco Malfoy to apologise to a creature she knew he felt a sickening amount of superiority over. She turned her attention back to the house-elf. “What’s, err, your name?”

 

“Pansy, what in Merlin’s name?” she heard Draco murmur from the armchair he’d obviously sunk back into.

 

“Winky, Miss. I have been assigned to attend to the Head Boy and Girl this year.”

 

“Attend to us?”

 

“Indeed, Miss. Every year one of the Hogwarts elves is assigned to the Head Boy and Girl.”

 

“Oh, err, Winky, I didn’t know that. Where did you disappear to this morning, after you, umm, woke me up?”

 

“I hid, Miss,” Winky replied, simply.

 

“Right, and why exactly did you wake me up?”

 

“Oh, because classes were starting in twenty minutes, Miss, and Winky didn’t want to see you and Sir-” she peered over Pansy, at Draco “-to be late.”

 

“Oh right, okay, uhh that was very, uhh-” Pansy stopped, properly taking stock of Winky’s words and spun around frantically to look at Draco.

 

“FUCK!” the pair shouted in unison, both jumping to their feet. “ _ACCIO_ UNIFORM!” bellowed from both Pansy and Draco’s mouths.

 

“Miss and Sir had better hurry. First lesson is beginning now, Winky believes.”

 

_Oh, bloody hell._

 

It took approximately five minutes for both to be appropriately dressed, their badges neatly attached. As they approached the door to the rest of the castle, two distinct things happened; both Pansy and Draco’s new timetables magically appeared in their respective hands, and Pansy spun on the spot to stare at Draco, as he let out a bark of laughter.

 

“What?” she snapped

 

“Forget to touch up another glamour, did we?”

 

“What are you talking-” Pansy’s hand shot to her mouth. “-oh no no no no!” She dug quickly in her bag for a small compact mirror and was greeted with her face encircled by her Daphne-induced bright green hair, Draco having assumed correctly that the glamour had since worn off.

 

“Not a word.” Pansy glared at Draco, somehow managing to successfully charm the tricky spell back in place for the first time.

 

Draco was holding his hands up in mock defeat, “Fine, fine. But you’ll be telling me the story later.”

 

“Daphne was drunk. There’s your story.”

 

Pansy scanned her timetable as Draco chuckled behind her.

 

_I swear to Merlin if I got ready in thirty seconds flat and I’ve actually got a free period, I’m going to scream._

 

As it turned out, both Pansy and Draco had probably the worst class possible to be late for, considering what the classroom was located. Letting out a groan they started off down the corridor.

 

* * *

 

  


_“Fucking, excuse me, Draco? I do not want to bone Longbottom!” Pansy had felt her cheeks redden and noticed her voice had become several octaves higher in pitch._

 

Fuck.

 

_“Ah, that’s a shame Pans, no booze for you then.” Draco snorted as he took off down the remaining steps. Reaching the bottom, he turned to face Pansy, his eyebrows raised, “You know it’s wrong to lie, right?”_

 

_Pansy flew, enraged, down the staircase after him, “Draco, that’s not even funny.”_

 

_“It’s not supposed to be funny.” Draco paused upon entering the living area. “You really gonna deny it? I’ve seen you eye-fuck him about ten times already.”_

 

_“I do not eye-fuck.”_

 

_“Yes, you do. You used to eye-fuck me-” Draco retorted, matter-of-factly as he smirked, “-and now, apparently, you eye-fuck Longbottom.”_

 

_Pansy gaped at Draco, incredulously. “I do not-”_

 

_“Look, it’s fine. You can still have a drink, I know I won.” Draco’s smirk was becoming incredibly insufferable._

 

_“What do you-”_

 

_Draco interrupted and sighed, “You really need me to prove it to you?” The Head Boy raised his eyebrows as he leaned casually, arms crossed, against a wall. “Well, firstly, when Pansy Parkinson gets embarrassed, her face turns a rather unflattering shade of red. Had I said, say, you want to bone Snape, or Crabbe, for instance, you wouldn’t have turned red, because that wouldn’t have embarrassed you. Strike One.” Draco held up his right index finger as Pansy glared, primarily at Draco but also because of the annoying heat that she could feel on her cheeks._

 

 _“Secondly, when Pansy Parkinson tries to lie, she- okay, actually I’ll rephrase. When Pansy Parkinson tries to lie_ to me _, her voice becomes this squeaky-” Draco was now imitating Pansy’s high-pitched tone, “-horrible sound. Strike two.”_

 

_“ You’re ridiculous.”_

 

_“And thirdly,” Draco continued, ignoring her, now holding up his index and middle finger._

 

Oh, there’s a third bullshit point?

 

_“When Pansy Parkinson is told to admit she wants to shag someone in exchange for a drink, she goes along with it. Remember in fifth year, when you tried to convince us all how much you’d love to have an orgy with the Weasels? Just so you’d get a shot? Yeah, strike three.”_

 

That was entirely different.

 

 _“You haven’t got a fucking clue what you’re talking about,” Pansy snapped, as Draco added in his ring finger to his fucking ridiculous strike nonsense._ What even is a strike?

 

_He handed her the brown bottle he’d been turning over in his hands, and with a wink said, “It’s alright Pans. Hey! He’s even Sacred Twenty-Eight!” And with that, Draco Malfoy could stop himself no longer, as his body shook with uncontrollable laughter._

 

_“Fuck you.”_

 

_The pair, finally able to catch up properly, spent most of the night talking and drinking. Despite the fact that classes began again the very next morning, neither wanted to go to bed, and so they stayed. Draco claimed the armchair, proclaiming it was slightly less hideous than the couch, and Pansy lounged on said ugly couch, summoning her pillows and duvet from upstairs, and the two old friends talked for hours. Draco told a horrified Pansy all about how Voldemort had all but moved into the Manor during the holidays, and about the happenings at the Death Eater meetings he was expected to attend. At the mention of the meetings, Pansy’s expression dropped and Draco seemed to know in an instant that she was already aware of what Pansy suspected he'd been nervous to tell her._

 

 _“I’m sorry, Pans, he took the Mark at the start of summer,” he paused, knowing she would have questions, and continued before she had the chance to ask, “I couldn’t write. They intercepted all the owls-” he broke off, his voice quieting as he grimaced at the memory. “-he barely even sleeps, you know, and he was always bloody_ there _.” Draco shook his head and his eyes met Pansy’s. She nodded, managing a meagre half a smile._

 

_“Did you manage to get any better at Occlumency?” Pansy acquired, knowing that Draco had spent some of his dwindling amounts of spare time devoted to closing his mind as much as possible during last year. Pansy had provided the Legilimens needed for Draco to practise the warding off of the spell. However, she, not being a particularly formidable opponent, doubted whether she actually made any difference to his improvement at the skill._

 

_“Yes, actually,” Draco replied, almost sounding surprised himself. “Lovely Aunt Bella has been teaching me, and believe me, she’s a lot harder to keep out than you were. You know, I reckon I could probably teach you how actually. At least a bit.”_

 

_“Probably a good idea, thanks.”_

 

_“No problem.”_

 

_“It’ll be okay, in the end though, won’t it? I mean, what does He even plan to do about Hogwarts, and-” she paused to take a deep breath, terrified of the answer to the question she knew she had to ask, “-us?”_

 

 _“I don’t know. I do know we’re expected to be-” his face twisting into a grimace at his own words, “-_ loyal followers _.” Draco continued, his voice steady, though Pansy could see the all too familiar fleeting spurts of panic crossing his eyes. “I don’t have a clue what’ll happen to Hogwarts, especially if he finds Potter, which will basically end the war. Though Merlin knows where Potter even is. I’ll be very shocked if we’re all still staying here sitting exams by the summer.”_

 

_Pansy didn’t answer. She, just like the entirety of Wizarding Britain, had no clue where Harry Potter, Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger were. With the exception of the fact the latter actually possessed some brains, she seriously doubted the likelihood that the three teenagers could bring an end to the reign of Lord Voldemort. She sighed and looked into Draco’s strained face._

 

_“Yeah, Pans,” Draco finally answered her previous question with an obvious sigh. She knew that in order to give her any sense of surety he was required to lie, but it was a lie she was both willing and needing to hear. “It’ll be okay. It’s just going to get really, really shit first.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took Pansy and Draco nearly ten minutes of hot-footed marching out the castle and down the grassy slope to reach the greenhouses; both panting and flushed by the time they arrived at their Herbology lesson.

 

Navigating their way to Greenhouse Three, as the first two appeared deserted, Draco and Pansy walked into the class, Pansy fully expecting the task of arguing her way out of a detention.

 

“Ah,” Professor Sprout nodded. “Head duties?” she enquired.

 

“Yes, Professor,” Pansy heard herself replying.

 

Professor Sprout nodded again and gestured for them to join their classmates. Neither Daphne, Theo nor Blaise had continued with Herbology past fifth year, so the pair trudged towards Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent, the latter expressing a relieved smile at the sight of Pansy and Draco.

 

“So,” Pansy heard Professor Sprout begin, and she turned to her right as she watched the dumpy, dirt-stained teacher hand a collection of potting trays to Ernie Macmillan, urging him to take one and pass the rest around. “Once you all have your trays, the plants will be passed to this half,” Professor Sprout gestured to the opposite side of the bench from Pansy. “It will be your first project as Seventh Years to work out the _type_ of plant, how it should be categorised within a botanical environment, and to nurture it correctly. I will then require each of you to complete three essays; one on general information about your plant, one on its particular uses, and another on any complications that may occur when growing. To save time, you will be partnered up with the person who is currently _opposite_ you.”

 

There was a murmur of general displeasure throughout the room. Draco was facing Susan Bones, neither looking particularly happy at the prospect. Millicent was actually pouting, as she looked at her match, one of the Patil twins. Crabbe and Goyle were being thrust upon Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown, respectively, the latter two looking absolutely horrified. Pansy, however, was trying to focus on breathing correctly, feeling as though she’d been recently winded. She stared across the bench, very briefly into a pair of deep blue eyes, as Neville Longbottom stared right back.

  



	9. A Small Potted Plant

A small potted plant was placed in the centre of the metre-wide bench which ran the middle of the Greenhouse. Pansy examined it with far more apparent interest than the witch would usually have granted the current Herbology assignment. Or, she would have been, if the curiosity that was seemingly written across her face was, in fact, truly interest or curiosity. In reality it was neither, and was masking a gripping and oddly forceful amount of curious nervousness. 

 

_ Why did it have to be fucking Longbottom? _

 

Pansy uncomfortably shifted her gaze to the parchment Professor Sprout had placed in front of her a few moments previously; forcing her features to emulate an identical expression of the same feigned interest.

 

_ For fuck’s sake, look at him. _

 

Dazedly ignoring her own instructions, Pansy’s eyes, entirely of their own volition, apparently believed it necessary to, once again, stare intently at the potted plant.

 

_...It is kind of interesting how its leaves are blue when the flowers are green... _

 

_ What the hell am I doing? _

 

_...you don’t see that much with plants… _

 

_ Pansy, pull yourself together! _

 

_...usually the leaves are always green, even with magical plants… _

 

_ Yep, I’m officially going mad.  _

 

_ Fucking Longbottom.  _

 

Pansy’s internal squabble was temporarily interrupted by a collective shuffling of bodies, along with a small murmur of voices. Confused, she watched her classmates begin to realign themselves around the bench.

 

_ Errrrr… _

 

Feeling a nudge against her elbow, Pansy whirled around to her left whilst she attempted to mentally work out how to decelerate one’s heart rate, and found herself face to face with Draco, who was staring at her with a particularly aggravating smirk. 

 

“Good luck!” Draco called in mock cheerfulness.

 

_ Why do I even like you? _

 

Narrowing her eyes at the blonde, Pansy risked formulating her fingers into the childish, Muggle ‘V’ insult, knowing the sheer immaturity of the act would annoy Draco more than any words she could choose would. 

 

The noise of a throat being cleared knocked all annoyance for Draco from Pansy’s consciousness. 

 

“Uhh, hey.” A deep, unsure voice ventured from behind her. 

 

_ Oh, Merlin. _

 

Pansy turned slowly, knowing without a doubt what awaited her sights. Neville Longbottom stood, awkward, yet somehow a lot surer of himself than Pansy had seen him look before. She swallowed as she scanned his stature, concentrating hard to not appear as though she was staring, yet unable to avert her eyes from the Gryffindor.

 

It would have been hard for anyone to deny that puberty had been extraordinarily kind to one Neville Longbottom; his once round, dopey face now hosted the strongest jawline Pansy had ever seen; a thin carpet of stubble graced its way along that same jawline. His eyes, Pansy assumed, had probably always been the same shade of blue, yet the way his firm brows now hooded them was nothing short of some kind of unexplainable witchcraft as yet unknown to the Wizarding World. At present, those brows were furrowed, causing several lines to cross his forehead; lines that Pansy would usually never even consider to be an attractive feature, however, on Longbottom, they just seemed to suit him all the more. And then...there was the way he held himself, in the troubling times they now lived in...there was  _ something else  _ there.

 

“Oh.” 

 

_ Oh. Yes, Pansy. Fantastic fucking start. _

 

Trying her opening line once more, Pansy exhaled and retorted, “Yeah, hi.”

 

_ Do I always sound so fucking bitchy? _

 

At her words, Neville’s expression, which Pansy, despite her intense scrutinising of his face, hadn’t picked up on, seemed to disappointedly fall. 

 

_ Fuck.  _

 

Deciding she needed to move forward with a new tactic, Pansy ventured a small smile towards Neville. Unfortunately for the witch, however, smiles were not amongst the array of expressions that came particularly natural to Pansy, and, upon execution, Neville no longer looked disappointed... 

 

_ He looks insulted! Oh fuck, he thinks I’m smirking at him.  _

 

“Shall we?” Neville asked, his voice dry, as he gestured vaguely, and summoned the small blue and green plant. Pansy nodded, crestfallen. Not entirely sure what she had been hoping to achieve from this exchange. 

 

_ It’s not as if anything can happen. _

 

_ Not as if I would ever, ever want anything to happen.  _

 

Pansy Parkinson having  _ anything  _ to do with Neville Longbottom was laughable, Pansy knew that. The Royal Bitch of Slytherin, she’d been dubbed on plenty of occasions, a title she herself knew was fitting, and... _ Longbottom _ ? She and Daphne had spent the first four years of their education referring to him as ‘ _ Fat Arse’.  _ Pansy felt her face burn as dozens of memories flooded the forefront of her mind where she’d insulted the boy both privately and not-so-privately. She gazed, once again at the small plant, barely seeing it.

 

_ Not that it matters...at all. _

 

She looked up, catching sight of a grumpy-looking Draco. Once upon a time, his current brooding expression would have sent both Pansy’s mind and heart rate into overdrive, now, however, it did nothing more than cause mild amusement. The amusement was enhanced by the equally grumpy looking Susan Bones, who, as a typical Hufflepuff had a tendency to look overwhelmingly and annoyingly cheery about anything and everything. She knew then- and if she was entirely honest with herself, she’d known for a long while, that nothing further would ever happen romantically with her and Draco. She loved him, and he, her. Last year, Pansy knew, Draco’s struggle both physically and emotionally with his mission to repair the vanishing cabinet and eventually kill Albus Dumbledore had solidified that fact. But she knew the feelings for her to carry on, even to continue to have the most casual of relationships with him, were no longer there.

 

There was no doubt that whatever was currently going on in Pansy’s brain right now, was doing so without her consent. Her mind’s eye, which she knew would be far better off acknowledging the intense guilt at her former treatment of the tall wizard standing in front of her, had instead, entirely of its own volition, drifted rather easily away from Draco. Now it had settled into some unknown, parallel universe in which Pansy was able to run her fingers and possibly her tongue, through Neville’s copious, yet modest amount of stubble, only interrupted when she became aware that the real Neville, _ who occupied her own universe, and not the sexy, stubble land she’d been imagining _ , had been talking.

 

“-so basically I’m pretty sure that it’s in that book, so I could probably have the assignment done tonight.”

 

_ What?  _

 

“What?” Pansy repeated the question, out loud this time, dumbly. 

 

“Did you hear any part of what I just said?” Neville asked

 

_ He doesn’t even ask rudely, and I can’t manage to say ‘What?’ without sounding like he pissed in my cornflakes. _

 

“Errr... the last part,” Pansy answered honestly, “I, err, sorry. I was miles away…”

 

_ Well, that’s not entirely a lie… _

 

At the mention of the word ‘sorry’ emerging from Pansy’s mouth, Neville’s own dropped open, and his eyebrows raised so high into his hairline Pansy was surprised they were still residing on his forehead.

 

“No-” Neville’s eyes had narrowed, suspiciously - yet not unkindly, and Pansy saw him swallow hard. “-problem.”

 

_ Thank Merlin! _

 

Neville’s eyes didn’t leave her own, even when Pansy’s eyes were occupied watching the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. She wanted to offer her own smile in return but was inherently afraid of appearing the same smirking bitch she knew he still viewed her as. Looking away, Pansy knew she was blushing and became aware, all of a sudden, that her mouth had, in fact, been smiling softly of its’ own accord. 

 

“Or, we could do it together, properly,” Neville suddenly interjected.

 

_ Excuse me. We could what now? _

 

“Huh?” Pansy’s head rushed to stare at Neville, unblinking. Not knowing whether to be alarmed or turned on; in reality, she knew she was both. 

 

Pansy straightened her back, forcing her nerves to the depths of her mind and trying to bring forth a reluctant confidence she doubted was even there. This was the part she knew she was good at, and if  _ Neville Longbottom,  _ of all people, could be so upfront, then so could she - she hoped. She personally wouldn’t have approached such a concept so quickly, but she couldn’t deny she wasn’t incredibly tempted. 

Pansy bit her lip, hoping she looked anything other than the bag of nerves she currently was and forced herself to look back into his eyes, before questioning his own words slowly and directly back towards him. “Do...It...Properly?” 

 

“Yeah, the assignment-” he pointed towards their potted plant, “-instead of me just doing it with my book. We’ll research it properly, you know? It might not even be the right plant in the book I’m thinking about, so it makes more sense for us to just do it that way.”

 

_ Oh. _

 

Pansy blinked several times, before spluttering something she was convinced was barely audible English about that being fine by her. 

 

The rest of the lesson passed in an awkward blur, and it became apparent to Pansy, rather quickly, that she and Neville had a grand total of zero topics of which they could discuss; which would have been bad enough, however coupled with the fact that any time any of Neville’s friends spoke to him they flashed Pansy a look not dissimilar to one that wouldn’t be out of place being directed towards a Blast-Ended Skrewt, and so Pansy felt thoroughly downtrodden. It also was no help to her mood that she knew, more than likely, she deserved the snide glances, having spent every other school year with these individuals giving them mostly undeserved grief.

 

_ Except you, you stupid Irish pillock.  _ Pansy glared right back at Seamus Finnegan after the third time he’d disdainfully looked her up and down.  _ I should rearrange your facial features just for breathing. _

 

The loud school bell then rang and Pansy, throat dry, thrust a hurried, “See you later,” towards Neville and hurried across the Greenhouse to the door without waiting for a response. Her pace refused to slow even when she heard Draco calling her from somewhere behind, sure his voice was laced with laughter. 

 

Reaching into her bag, Pansy pulled her new time-table out and was incredibly relieved to see that two free periods were sandwiching a break, meaning over two hours of nothingness currently awaited her. She hurried all the way back to the Head Quarters without so much as a backwards glance, refusing to stop until she reached the cow picture.

 

_ Thank Merlin for free periods. _

 

Draco did catch up with her once they were both back in their new living room, a gleeful grin on his face which usually was reserved for Potter getting into trouble.

  
“So...” Draco began.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I’m just curious…” his hands raised in pretend surrender.

 

“I said shut up.”

 

“I mean, we can now say  _ for definite…”  _

 

“Draco, I mean it. Shut the fuck up.”

 

Surprisingly, Draco did shut up, talking that is. However, he replaced his incredibly annoying words with an even more infuriating laughter, which carried on for fifteen minutes straight.

 

“Fuck you,” Pansy snapped, before making the decision to summon Winky, after realising, all of a sudden, that she was ravenous. 

 

_ But, for what exactly?  _

 

_ I’m in trouble. _

 


	10. Not the Brightest Hippogriff in the Herd

 

It wasn’t until the next day when Pansy really noticed how, even in the short time period of a few lowly days, almost the entirety of Hogwarts seemed distressed _.  _ Solely walking around a few corridors of the old castle left a significantly gloomy feeling residing over her, and it didn’t take a great deal of observation to notice that a number of other students and staff members seemed to feel it, too. The very walls of stone, which had, of course, always been grey in colour, now seemed, if possible, more grey, and even the copious amount of paintings seemed duller than before, as though the ancient building had somehow been plastered with a filter of dreariness.

 

“Bloody hell, even the  _ Hufflepuffs  _ look miserable,” Theo had commented as they finished their lunch on the second day of the term. He ran a hand through his short dark hair, scanning the room, he focused on the yellow and black-clad table before spearing a potato with his knife and poised it in the direction he was looking. This time, his gaze was resting on the Ravenclaw table, and at Luna Lovegood in particular. “Look at Batshit-Crazy Blondie. Now  _ she _ definitely needs some cheering up.” He finished with a smirk and a quick, cocky raise of both eyebrows, now looking across their table at a frowning Pansy. 

 

“You’re disgusting,” she retorted blandly. 

 

He shot her an over exaggerated wink. “And you’re sexy when you’re jealous.” 

 

“You wish, Nott.” 

 

“Maybe-” he threw his left hand, fist clenched in front of him, in a mock-poetic sadness, “-but alas, maiden, you were claimed, many moons ago, by this fair gentleman.” At the end of his last word, Theo smacked an unsuspecting Draco on the back, who up until that point had been innocently reading a copy of the morning’s  _ Daily Prophet _ with a somewhat sour expression plastered on his pale face, oblivious to the conversation to begin choking on the mouthful of pumpkin juice he’d just swigged. 

 

_ You really know how to pick your moments, Theo. _

 

“What the fuck was that for?” Draco gasped through sporadic coughs as Theo burst out laughing.

Daphne and Blaise, who, until now had been quietly talking between themselves, along with Millicent, had all simultaneously swivelled their attentions to Draco, who had at least managed to regain control of his breathing, and Theo, who had not. 

 

“Theo here,” Pansy gestured vaguely at the occupant of the seat directly in front of her, “seems to believe that you,” she jabbed her finger in the direction of Draco’s chest, “have _claimed_ me _._ Which is of course crap and _this,”_ her finger this time jabbed towards Theo, who at this point was bright red, banging his fist on the table in an attempt to control his hysteria, “overconfident shit needs to learn that simply being in possession of a vagina and a pulse does not automatically mean that any female will bend over backwards-”

 

At Pansy’s particular choice of phrasing, Theo erupted in a whole new bout of unrelinquishing laughter. 

 

“Oh, Theo, for fuck’s sake. Grow up,” Pansy snapped.   _ Oh my Gods, Theo, people are staring.  _ She nervously glanced around at the other tables, noticing Theo had attracted more than just the closest Slytherin’s attentions as she felt Millicent shuffle slightly next to her.

 

“Bend over backwards!” Theo howled, actual tears streaming from his eyes, barely seeming to notice the school bell signalling the end of lunch, or the shuffling of his friends’ bodies as they readied themselves to leave the Great Hall.

 

“See you later, you daft bastard,” Draco patted Theo’s convulsing shoulder, shaking his head bemusedly and beginning to walk towards to bottom of the table.   
  
“Will you come to the common room tonight?” 

 

Pansy turned to face Daphne, a hopeful look upon her face as she awaited Pansy’s answer. “Yeah, definitely! I need  _ something  _ familiar, and, you know, you!” Smiling softly as Daphne linked her arm through Pansy’s own, the familiarity of their old gesture offering a source of well-needed comfort as they began to walk slowly down the hall.   
  
“Do you have a free period now? We do!” Pansy pulled her timetable from her bag and after a second of examining proclaimed that she did have a free period. Both final lessons after lunch it turned out, were free periods, making Pansy an instant fan of Tuesdays. Nodding in response, Pansy felt Daphne's arm tighten around her own.

 

“Great! So you can just come with us. We’re going outside for a bit first and...oh-” Daphne’s sentence was halted, her face the picture of bamboozlement as she looked down upon the reason she’d ceased talking. Pansy blinked, her gaze following Daphne’s downwards. 

 

“Oh, um... hi, Winky, you alright?”

 

Winky bowed, both slowly and lowly. The act, and Pansy guessed the mere appearance of the random house-elf, which were not usually seen wandering the castle at all, had caused a number of stares; most of which were directed specifically at Pansy, and generally, she noticed, wore matching looks of annoyance.

 

_ Oh, bloody hell. Winky get up! _

 

“Miss,” Winky squeaked, finally fully standing, her large eyes their usual watery state. “I have been instructed to enlighten you that Mister and Miss Carrow wish to see you and Sir in their new office, where Headmaster Snape’s old office used to be. 

 

“Oh right, okay. Now?” Pansy barely tried to keep the disappointment from her voice. 

 

Pansy was grateful when Draco appeared beside her. “Yes Miss, right away.” The elf nodded, causing her long ears to bounce around her head.

 

“Right, that’s just fucking great,” Draco growled under his breath, watching as Winky bowed once more before departing. 

 

Pansy and Draco swapped fleeting glances,  knowing that they both wanted to visit the Carrows about as much as they wished to be taken on a date by a flobberworm.

 

“We’d better go. Sorry, Daph.” 

 

“No, it’s fine, hope it’s not too bad. The Carrows look horrible.” She added in a whisper, “At least offer to glamour some of the grease out of the woman one’s hair.” The blonde shot her a quick wink and replaced Pansy’s arm with Blaise’s before leading the rest of the group away.

 

“Shall we?” Draco grimaced, mimicking Pansy’s expression of disappointment perfectly. Pansy nodded, and they set off - towards the Carrows and uncertainty. 

  
  


The journey to the Carrows’ new office was a short one, despite the fact that both Pansy and Draco walked significantly slower than their usual pace. It was a route they both knew well, and in order to reach the Slytherin common room, the office in question had to be passed and therefore, whether they liked it or not, arrived at their destination far quicker than Pansy would have liked.

 

They stood, side by side, in front of the office door which neither possessed any desire to knock on, let alone walk through. Draco sighed loudly and shot Pansy a sideways glance. 

 

“Let’s get this over with. Brace yourself.” He clenched his hand into a fist, ready to knock, before stopping himself and adding, “Oh, and talk slowly, just pretend you’re in the company of Crabbe and Goyle.” He snorted at his own advice before rapping quickly on the large, wooden door. 

 

Moving inwards, apparently on its own, the door slowly opened. Draco led the way forward, strolling easily through the door with an air of confidence that was not entirely disparate to his usual demeanour but was most certainly, Pansy could tell, an act. She followed Draco’s lead, straightening her spine as well she could and pushing her shoulders back. She then converted her expression into a cold, collected, and very well-practised mask of nonchalance. Shooting Draco a quick nod, the pair entered the office together.

 

Both Amycus and Alecto Carrow were waiting. Two large desks, which had clearly been crammed in the modestly sized room without much prior planning, occupied the majority of the space.  _ Did I just walk into a cheap Death Eater charity shop?  _ The mahogany pieces reminded Pansy of her father’s grand office furniture, though it was clear there was no further correlation between the aesthetic of the two studies. This room was one that Pansy had frequented a fair few times in her years at Hogwarts. When Professor Snape had occupied it, the room used to feel cold and uninviting, but its furnishings and items at least matched their surroundings. 

 

The Carrows had since redecorated. 

 

Amycus was leaning slightly against the right-hand desk, his arms crossed loosely over his slim torso. He was a tall, middle-aged man with thick hair that fell in dark waves, framing his white face. The piercing eyes he wore were of a similar blue to Longbottom’s, Pansy found herself - for whatever reason she cared not to delve into, quickly noticing, yet they held none of Neville’s warmth. Every part of this man screamed ice cold, and Pansy had to force herself to match his frosty stare. Even his lips showed little colour, and his stark jawline, which again Pansy noticed, whilst sincerely wishing she still had the ability to stop herself making embarrassing comparisons to Neville Longbottom, was reminiscent of the strong jawline that Pansy had found herself so attracted to the previous morning. Now, however, this sight evoked an entirely different mental image. 

 

_ Well, you look like a dead fish. _

 

Alecto was sitting behind the second desk, on the left side of the room. She was as pale as her brother, and her eyes were identical to his. Her hair was what separated the pairs looks the most; where Amycus was dark, his hair almost as black as Pansy’s own, Alecto had a head of ginger and she wore a slight smile that Pansy was fairly certain was emitting nothing but falseness. The female Carrow, Pansy mused to herself, looked remarkably dumb as she observed the Head Boy and Girl through her own cold, blue eyes. 

 

_ Not the brightest Hippogriff in the herd, are you, love? _

  
  


“Well that was a load of shit,” Draco remarked bluntly. They were sitting in their living area, having left the meeting with the Carrows half an hour previous. The  _ meeting, _ if it could accurately be referred to as such, had lasted approximately fifteen minutes, and the Carrows had spent the entire time informing Draco and Pansy that they had several expectations of the two Head students; most notably the demand of help in making the lives of all students who didn't possess a pureblood ancestry an absolute misery. The Cruciatus Curse had even been mentioned, something the Carrows had requested that Draco and Pansy become a lot more accustomed to.

 

“Look, I’ve never particularly  _ liked  _ Muggleborns,” Pansy stated honestly. She squirmed, slightly uncomfortable admitting the truth aloud, “ _ but, _ I’m not about to start cursing them to shit. Fucking hell.”

 

“We need to keep up the pretence, Pans,” Draco replied, his voice sombre. The firewhisky he had not long before requested from Winky appeared then, bobbing on a small round tray as the elf carried it above her head. Draco swiped the glass in haste and took a deep mouthful. Pansy opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her with a raise of his free hand. “There might be  _ something  _ we can do, though it’ll be difficult to pull off. You’re already good at nonverbal…” he trailed off, deep in thought. “We’ll need to start working on the Occlumency this week, as well.” Pansy knew his deep expression and that it was in her best interests not to pry further and leave him with firewhisky and contemplations for company.

 

“I’m going to bed,” she announced, realising all of a sudden the new reign of Hogwarts, combined with her still present hangover, meant that she was ready to drop, even though it was still only mid-afternoon at most. She  _ had  _ told Daphne that she’d visit the Slytherin common room that evening, but the thought of walking up the stairs to her room was an exhausting one, let alone having to walk to the dungeons. Yawning sleepily, she stood up, hoping Daphne would understand tomorrow.

 

“Mmmkay.” Draco looked up as Pansy busied herself gathering some belongings, readying herself to retreat for the night. “Hey, Muggle Studies with dear Alecto tomorrow morning,” he raised his glass in mock celebration.

 

“Oh, I can hardly contain myself.” Her dry retort earned her a snort from Draco as she exited the living room.

 

Sighing as she sat on her bed and took in the view that was her new bedroom, the room in which Pansy Parkinson questioned almost everything she’d ever known. 

  
  



	11. Nonverbal if You Have To

Pansy awoke the next morning with a start, although what caused her to wake was a mystery. Rolling over, she observed the small carriage-style alarm clock on her bedside table, which revealed the time was currently fifteen minutes past six, over a whole hour earlier than she’d actually set the alarm for, and, she realised with a start, a whole  _ fifteen  _ hours since she’d taken herself upstairs to bed. Pansy turned back and sunk her head into her pillows even though she knew she had no hope of getting any more sleep; her thoughts were already too loud, too worrisome, and too downright disturbing to enable any of the quiet calm she knew she would require to doze off, not that she’d need it, considering the amount of time she’d just spent unconscious. Nonetheless, Pansy closed her eyes and stared into the nothingness present behind her eyelids.

 

She knew roughly what her day entailed, having skimmed her timetable briefly the previous night. Just as Draco had aforementioned,  _ Muggle Studies  _ was printed in the first slot, followed by another free period before break. 

 

_ Should probably use that time to come up with some sort of Prefect schedule… probably should have had that done already.  _

 

After hoisting herself out of bed, Pansy wearily made her way to the opposite wall, where a sink stood accompanied by a mirror hanging on the wall above the taps. Examining her reflection, Pansy was met by her bright green locks and rolled her eyes at the sight. Her even paler than usual complexion, coupled with some unexpected dark shadows currently taking up residence under her green eyes - which sported an unflattering puffiness - were the only evidence of the fact that Pansy had ended up crying herself to sleep.  _ Well, this won’t do for the keeping up of any pretence. _

 

A few short days ago, at the feast she’d all but completely broke down and thoroughly lost all of her cool composure that she knew was critical to her fulfilling the role she’d had thrust, albeit unwillingly, upon her, she knew a repeat performance would be suspicious at best, downright dangerous at worst. At this point, the role was integral to her survival. Her father could no longer be thought of with any of her previous trust, which, scarce as it had been, at least _had_ existed in some respect. And Rabastan - the thought of whom still sent an unintentional shiver down her spine, as fleeting as her past meetings with him had been, was not _just_ a Death Eater _,_ not in the same way her father now was, but unhinged and incredibly dangerous He was, she believed, a trusted member of the Dark Lord’s inner circle. He’d served time in Azkaban for his devotion to his leader and was an abominable reminder of the world she now existed in. 

 

_ A world that’s gone to shit. _

 

She looked back at her reflection once more, grimacing at the shade of her hair, remembering the night only last week, where Daphne had ended up hiding in a sink of all places. Pansy’s grimace changed into a smile as she thought of her best friend, and found her thoughts veering to Millicent, Blaise, Theo, and then Draco.

 

_ There are still some things not shit in the world… _

 

_...like Longbottom.  _

 

Pansy squeezed her eyes closed, willing herself to stop thinking about Neville Longbottom, which, if anything, only ingrained the image of those blue-

 

_...almost impossibly blue… _

 

-eyes and unbelievably handsome features-

 

_...like that jawline... _

 

-deeper in her mind. 

 

She sighed in an almost annoyed fashion. She hadn’t the faintest idea why Neville Longbottom had an unrelinquishing hold upon her consciousness, and it frustrated her, further, to realise he had somehow managed to achieve this before saying more than two words to her alone. Actively shaking herself, Pansy concentrated on mentally and physically readying herself for the day that stretched before her. And certainly  _ not  _ on thoughts of a certain Gryffindor. 

 

Now grateful for the extra hour, Pansy busied herself by showering, gladly finding that Winky had somehow unpacked all of hers and Draco’s toiletries in the bathroom. In fact, as she made her way back upstairs towards her bedroom, passing a sleepy-looking Draco, Pansy actually found herself feeling closer to herself since she had arrived back at the castle, and despite the impending Muggle Studies class most likely ensuring that this newfound confidence would be short-lived, Pansy managed to embrace it. She carefully applied her makeup  _ just so,  _ and magically helping her now damp hair to get entirely dry, before Glamouring it back to black and applying some Sleek-Eazy’s so it fell, a sleek carpet of night, down her back. Selecting a freshly laundered uniform, a much shorter-than-necessary skirt and the pair of black shoes that donned the highest heels, Attaching her Head Girl badge, Pansy threw her bag over her shoulder and stepped back to examine as much of her appearance as she could in the above-sink mirror.  _ I got this.  _

 

“I got this,” she repeated, aloud this time.

 

“Good for you,” her mirror replied.

 

As she descended the stairs she could hear a faint rustling coming from the living area, indicating that Draco was beyond the door. Throwing it open, her eyes rushed the room and quickly located him, his head turning towards her as she entered. His body was stooped as he closed his bag and picked it up from its previous position on the armchair, not taking his eyes off Pansy as he did so.

 

“Morning,” he said, elongating the ‘o’ of the word, as he brazenly looked her up and down.

 

_ Too bad it isn’t for you, anymore. _

 

“Put your tongue back in your mouth, loser. Let’s get breakfast.” And with that, she strode past Draco and vacated their living quarters, a smug smile accompanied the small exhale of breath and a small shake of her head as she realised just how simply the egotistically  _ male  _ part of Draco’s brain worked.  

  
  


“Well, it’s about time!” Daphne was stating, as they prepared to leave breakfast. The only notable incident at the mealtime being Theo somehow managing to launch a number of croissants some fifteen feet in the air over a number of student’s heads.  

 

They landed somehow, despite Theo’s insistence that he’d utilised no magical assistance, on the plates of a number of female students, the furthest away being Parvati Patil, at Gryffindor, and the closest being a surprised looking Millicent, who Pansy watched with interest as a blush appeared on her cheeks as she took a small bite of the croissant. 

 

“That’s not the only thing you can put in your mouth, Mills,” Theo said with a wink.

 

The group emitted a collective groan at Theo’s words, to which Pansy shook her head, Blaise ventured, “Mate, you are grim.” Draco choked on his coffee, and Daphne declared Theo the most disgusting human she’d ever met.

 

“Hey, Greengrass, you know you never complained last year...” Theo began, laughing as Daphne exhaled loudly from her nose, her eyes ablaze with indignation. It was Blaise, however, that defused the situation in one swift comment of, “Enough, Theo.” His deep voice, whilst calm, was lined with a threat that he had no need to say aloud.

 

“Alright, alright. You know I was only messing!” 

 

“Bite me,” Daphne snapped

 

“I have- Ah! Ow! Okay, okay!” Theo’s initial retort had apparently earned him a stinging hex from the end of Blaise’s wand.

 

“Thanks.” Daphne smiled sweetly at Blaise

 

“More than happy to exercise any excuse to hex this fucker,” Blaise replied with a smirk and a jerk of his left elbow towards a decidedly grumpier looking Theo, which earned him a solid echo of laughter from Pansy, Daphne, and Draco.

 

As he stood, Pansy noticed simultaneously a quick flick of Millicent’s wand to her left, and a shocked screech from Theo, who was now staring, eyes wide, at Millicent, his palms clutching his buttocks.

 

Pansy’s face turned, impressed, to face Millicent, who raised her eyebrows as her eyes scrutinised Theo. “Not you as well,” he grumbled, “and after I gave you a croissant.”

 

Millicent shrugged. “You gave twenty other girls a croissant,” she pointed out. 

 

_ She’s not wrong there. _

 

“Yours was the nicest.” Theo feigned a pout and looked, to Pansy’s amusement, momentarily crestfallen as Millicent turned away from him and began to walk down the hall.

 

“Maybe next time,” Pansy murmured to Theo, “try giving her the  _ only  _ croissant.”

 

“Huh,” Theo replied, his brows knitting together as he clearly pondered Pansy’s words. She watched as Theo’s line of sight moved past her, to the still visible view of Millicent, now some ten feet in front of them.

 

Daphne shot Pansy a wide smile. “It’s about time!”

 

“What is?” 

 

“That we’re finally in a class together, of course!”

 

“Oh right, yeah. Just wish it wasn’t Muggle Studies with the Carrow bint.”

 

Daphne snorted. “Ugh! I know! You look hot today, by the way, for anyone’s benefit? You wanting to get down and dirty with Mister Malfoy again?”

 

“Thanks, so do you!”

 

“Don’t ignore me, Parkinson!”

 

“I think it’s on the third floor.” Pansy steered them to the right, into the already busy swarm alighting the grand staircase.

 

“Change the subject, much?” Daphne’s eyebrows were so high they were almost blended into her actual hair. 

 

“Ugh! Fine! I’m fighting a deep-seated urge to impress the absolute shit out of Neville Longbottom. Yesterday, I had some serious visuals going on about running my tongue over his jaw.”   
  


Daphne burst out laughing. “You’re hilarious, you know that? Well,  _ when  _ you eventually want to confess that you  _ are _ trying to entice Draco...or  _ whoever, _ into some more freaky frik-frak, let me know.”

 

_ Oh, Daphne...if only you knew I just did. _

 

* * *

 

  
  


Pansy and Daphne were amongst the first to arrive at Muggle Studies. The door was locked, and the pair found themselves standing in the corridor alongside Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. The rest of the Slytherins arrived behind Pansy and Daphne, along with Finnegan and...Longbottom. The absence of Potter, Weasley, and Granger, along with, Pansy realised with a surprise, Dean Thomas, was more abhorrent than before as she was finally forced face to face with the seventh-year Gryffindors, or, perhaps more accurately, the _lack_ of a few well known seventh-year Gryffindors. 

 

Pansy felt her palms begin to sweat. She clasped Daphne’s arm in hers and focussed on her breathing.  _ I got this,  _ she reminded herself, wishing she believed her thoughts.

 

The classroom door slowly opened, and a black-clad Alecto Carrow stepped forward, a twisted, sinister smile etched on her face. Pansy took a deep breath, fixing her metaphorical mask in place once more and attempted to channel the confidence she’d felt as she left the her bedroom. She looked Alecto up and down, allowing the woman to see her doing so despite the fact that, just like Rabastan, Alecto had served time in Azkaban. Unlike Rabastan, however, Pansy realised she felt very little fear when facing the woman in front of her. 

 

_ Good grief, are you wearing a corset to teach a class? _

 

Smirking, Pansy walked, still arm in arm with Daphne, around Alecto and entered the classroom. Or it would seem, more accurately;  _ A fucking shrine to Death Eater Propaganda.  _

 

_ Bloody hell. _

 

There were posters and lists covering every inch of the walls of the classroom, most were simply duplicated in order to cover the whole space, and a few were enlarged, their derogatory slogans blazoning from all angles. Pansy looked around at her peers; Daphne’s eyes were round as saucers, her free hand clasped over her mouth. Draco showed neither shock nor horror, though his eyebrows were raised slightly. Pansy had heard Theo mutter a strained, “Bloody hell,” when they first walked through the door, and Blaise was watching Daphne, his hand resting on her shoulder as he exchanged a small smile with Pansy. Millicent had stopped next to Theo and was scrutinising their surroundings with a frown, and Crabbe and Goyle, alone in the newfound delight present upon their faces, exchanged a look of pure glee at the sight.  _ Fucking idiots. _

 

Before she’d had a chance to think further, Pansy’s eyes had, entirely of their own volition she was certain, sought out Neville, who was wearing a look of outright disgust as he looked around the classroom. Pansy didn’t know how long she watched him for but found her eyes somehow, suddenly locked with his, as he averted his gaze from the propaganda and, in a single second, had found her face. His look had shifted to one of surprise as he blinked at the witch, who, even if a fire had broken out beneath her, didn’t know whether she could have broken their gaze.

 

“Right, find a seat. It’s time to begin.”

 

And then they both did look away, just like that. She saw, this time from the corner of her eye, him walk to take a seat near Finnegan, and she took the chair that she had already been behind. Bringing her gaze to the front of the room, she felt Daphne’s own eyes upon her side, and glancing towards the blonde Daphne hissed, “Holy shit, you were telling the truth!”

 

“Errrr…”

 

_ Oh fuck. _

 

Pansy’s panic-stricken thoughts were interrupted by a book settling itself on her desk. Looking down, a large, red title read  _ ‘My Undertaking’.  _ The cover also featured a hooded figure atop a hill of, on closer inspection, what turned out to be skulls.  _ Lovely.  _ A second item landed on top of the book; this time a small booklet of parchment, entitled  _ ‘Muggles: A Study of the Subhuman Populace.’ Well, this is worse than I thought. _

 

Using her wand, whilst struggling to keep a look of contempt from her face, Pansy opened her booklet. A contents page came second and reading some of the topics she was now apparently expected to study, Pansy wished she hadn’t eaten quite so big a breakfast. Parts of various descriptions jumped out at her sporadically from the page:  _...main differences between the superior Wizardkind… ...dangers Muggles pose to a Pureblood Society… ...why mating with Muggles… Oh, for fuck’s sake. _

 

“So, boys and girls,” Pansy started at Alecto’s piercing tone, momentarily forgetting she was somehow supposed to be taught by the dimwitted Death Eater, who was looking around the room with a decidedly happy look thrust upon her face. “this is the first of the mandatory-”

 

_ Merlin, you know a four syllable word. _

 

“-lesson in  _ Muggle _ Studies.” Giving off the impression that the very word  _ Muggle _ actually caused a bad taste to materialise in her mouth, Alecto looked from face to face, drifting past the Slytherins and resting her look to Seamus Finnigan and Neville. “Well, you two don’t look very  _ interested  _ in this class.” She spoke high, in a sing-song way that Pansy knew was solely in place to goad the two Gryffindors. 

 

“Interested?” Spat Neville, and Pansy found herself straightening in her chair. “No, we aren’t  _ interested _ .”

 

Alecto’s face twisted, a sinister spark appeared behind her eyes as she smiled wider, and without blinking, pointed her wand at Neville. “Crucio!”

 

Pansy watched, horror stricken, as Neville crashed from his chair, his body convulsing in what Pansy could only assume was bouts of excruciating pain. He fell, in what felt like slow motion, to the floor. And, as chance would have it, due to the fact he’d been sitting diagonally backwards from her, he fell so close to her she could have touched his head with her shoe. Pansy reached for her own wand, unable to clear her mind enough to realise the magnitude of her action as his eyes found hers once more, riddled with such an obvious pain that almost choked Pansy’s very core. A hand, two hands, perhaps more, were suddenly upon Pansy’s wand arm, preventing her from bring her wand up.

  
“Pans, you can’t.” She heard Draco hiss in her ear.

 

_ What? How did he get there? _

 

“Nonverbal if you have to. Don’t let her know it’s you.” Draco’s voice was barely a whisper, but was smooth and controlled in her ear.

 

Suddenly, Pansy realised the classroom was abuzz; Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were both screaming. Finnegan had been thrown to the back wall with, what appeared to be, an incredibly strong disarming charm, much stronger than Pansy had witnessed previously, when he’d stood to defend Neville The Slytherins were sitting absolutely still with the exception of  _ Draco,  _ who was at Pansy’s side, still clutching her wand arm _.  _ Pansy, had her eyes still locked with Neville’s, though he was finding it harder to keep her gaze as his eyes were forced shut on a more frequent basis due to the bouts of Alecto’s curse radiating through him, 

_ Nonverbal if you have to.  _ Draco’s words repeated themselves back at her and, nodding slowly, focussing as hard as she could and as clear as she was able, breaking her long-lasting gaze from Neville’s just long enough to glare at Alecto and think ‘ _ STUPEFY!’ _

 

At once it seemed many things happened, but the fact that Neville stopped convulsing was all Pansy found herself able to register.

 

Alecto herself was knocked backwards and was momentarily unconscious, though with nowhere near the ferocity that Finnegan had been thrown. Finnegan himself was just now slowly getting to his feet.

 

The female Carrow stood up from the floor, a pointed glare on her face as she looked at each student in turn. “I’m going to find out who did that,” her face once more twisting into the smile she’d worn before cursing Neville. Pansy, all alarm forgotten, and, whilst risking a few chance glances at Neville, who had settled back in his seat and seemed to be writing something, very quickly, flicked her wand slightly and thought, as clearly as she was able,  _ Scourgify.  _ The spell cleaned the underside of her desk and when Alecto forced every wand in the room to reveal its last given spell, a howl of annoyance erupted from her pasty face as none of the wands showed a  _ Stupefy.  _

 

“Class dismissed!” Alecto said through gritted teeth. Pansy allowed herself another quick glance at Neville, who she realised with a stifled gasp was already watching her. His blue, yet somehow warm eyes seemed to be speaking a thousand words just to her. As she looked, she watched him bend down, fiddle with his shoelace, and then, so quickly she could easily have missed it, Neville place his hand in the front pocket of her bag.

 

_ Um, excuse me? _

 

He then stood, turned as quickly as he could, and followed Finnegan out the door without a backwards glance.

 

“Come on, Pans!” Pansy heard a strained Daphne say from behind her, and she obliged, as they then strode the length of the room and exited their first, cut very short, Muggle Studies class.

 

“Well, fuck me! That was eventful!” But Pansy’s barely heard Theo’s words. “Let’s go see this pair’s cosy new setup.” even when his arm draped over her shoulder, her thoughts were entirely somewhere else.

 

“Sure, it’s fuck ugly though, isn’t it Pans?” Draco answered, and Pansy gave a non-committal ‘MmHmm _ ’  _ in response. Still not paying the rest of the group much attention, Pansy was drawn to her bag, specifically the front pocket. Her fingers closed around a small scrap of parchment, which, after making sure the others were all busy in conversation, Pansy brought the parchment close to her face.

 

Two words were scribbled, hurriedly, upon the scrap. 

 

_ Thank you.  _


	12. Flecks of Gold

“And you’re positive you’d both rather stay  _ here _ ?” Theo was wondering incredulously. “I mean, as fucking beautiful as it is, you’re more than welcome to come back to Slytherin. Unless, of course, you prefer  _ this _ ...” He gestured vaguely at the powder blue walls.

 

“Not a chance mate. I’ve got a permanent headache just being here, but McGonagall said something about all the prefect information being here, and instead of coming up with a schedule for patrols-”

 

“Patrols which should have  _ started _ yesterday!” Pansy interjected with a pang of guilt

 

“-we decided to get slaughtered on our first night back. Then the Twat Twins put us both on a right fucking downer last night. So now…” Draco trailed off with a small shrug and an irritated sigh.

 

“Not a problem, old bean!” Theo answered in pompous over exaggeration and playfully smacked Draco’s left shoulder. “But you simply must come visit in the morn’!” 

 

“You’re an idiot!” Pansy laughed as she swatted Theo’s hand which he was currently attempting to grab one of her own with. “And you! My favourite raven-haired Ice-Queen! You must also come back to our underground lair of the serpents!”

 

“Goodbye, Theodore!” Draco exclaimed loudly and all but forcibly pushed Theo through the exiting door. He was followed, swiftly, by Millicent, who allowed the rather intoxicated Theo to drape one arm over her shoulders, steadying him, as they began to walk down the corridor.

 

“I bid thee farewell!” They heard Theo cry from the corridor beyond. Laughing and shaking their heads, Pansy and Draco also bid Blaise and Daphne goodbye, the latter pulling Pansy into a bone-crushing hug whilst her voice cracked as she said, “This was fun. I miss you. Please do come tomorrow night,” Daphne released her best friend and continued, “- _ both _ of you.” She quickly hugged Draco and Blaise wrapped his arms quickly around Pansy before grasping Draco’s right hand in his own briefly, and the two quickly stepped through the door and disappeared to the right. Their footsteps rang for a short minute before their three friends turned to descend the staircase Pansy knew they must have reached. The pair turned to face each other, and Draco shut the door behind him before they made their way back to the seating area.

 

“Well, we’ve had a productive start to the year,” he began as he slouched back into his favoured armchair once more. “Third day’s over and we’ve had all of five classes, skived two, and had one cut short because the teacher is a demented sociopath who Crucio’d a student. Fuck me. Well, at least, we’re clearly the most model Head Boy and Girl Hogwarts has ever had.” 

 

“We probably should have gone to Arithmancy,” Pansy mused. 

 

Draco shrugged, shaking his head again in amusement. “It was worth it. I haven’t laughed that much since we came back. In fact, it was worth it just to see Theo’s  _ Sexy Alecto _ impression!” 

 

“Oh my Merlin, yes!” 

 

Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes. He observed his silver wristwatch. “It’s nearly eight, bloody hell! We’ll have to start the patrol schedule. I definitely need some food as well though. WINKY!” 

  
  


Two Days Later...

 

_ Try not to be a dick this time, Pansy. _

 

It was their first Herbology lesson since they’d been assigned their pairs, and even though she’d  _ seen  _ him in both Divination and Charms at various points over the past few days, both classes had consisted of Pansy awkwardly attempting to look anywhere but Neville. 

 

Divination had by far been the worst of the two in terms of embarrassment. Daphne, taking full advantage of the fact that this was the first time she’d spent any alone time with Pansy since the disastrous Muggle Studies class spent the entire lesson prying Pansy for information on her newfound attraction towards Neville. Instead of listening to Professor Trelawny, Daphne was intent on bombarding Pansy in a barrage of annoyingly hissed questions. Trelawny’s usual dramatic demeanour was seemingly gone and replaced by a rather monotonic drone, as the Seer spoke of signs of light in the darkest of spaces. 

 

_ Why did I say that shit about his jawline?  _ Pansy groaned as she attempted to ignore Daphne. 

 

In truth, she’d never expected Daphne to work out that she wasn’t joking when she uttered her want to run her tongue over Neville’s jaw. Until, of course, she’d completely blown that cover by failing miserably, to not only stop staring at him but finding herself unable to not act when she witnessed him being so cruelly cursed by Alecto.

 

_ “Have you kissed him?” Daphne whispered across the small round table the pair had occupied.  _

 

_ “Have I...are you mad? Of course I’ve not bloody kissed him!” _

 

_ “But you want to?” _

 

_ “Shut up!” _

 

_ “Oh, you do want to! Oh, it’s so romantic!” _

 

_ Pansy didn’t reply; she had no response. Yet, she’d internally queried Daphne’s words countless times since. Romantic? It certainly didn’t feel romantic.  _

 

_ “No,” she explained, “if anything were to happen, which it won’t, if we were caught, he could be killed. I could be killed for being with a traitor. Actually killed. They’d kill people for less. It’s too hard, Daph. There’s too much at stake,” Pansy had finished miserably. She knew her words were true. The relatively safe world she’d grown up in was gone; now all that mattered was staying alive - Draco had been saying as much since last year.  _

 

_ “Also,” Pansy muttered, begrudgingly, “I’ve spent the entire time I’ve known him berating and making fun of him. The chance of him even looking at me like that are slim to none. In fact, deep down, he probably hates me.” _

 

_ “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Daphne had hissed in response. _

 

_ Pansy frowned. “Why?” _

 

_ “Well, he’s looking at you right now...and he doesn’t look like he hates you.” _

 

The Herbology lesson, a double, hadn’t been the catastrophic mess that Pansy had felt, with an absolute surety, it would be. Neville had a much more casual and calm demeanor than he’d had with her thus far, and Pansy did her best to hide her usual dryness, desperate not to appear so rude again. Neither spoke of the Muggle Studies class, and Neville didn’t mention the thank you note he’d put in her bag and Pansy didn’t either. She couldn’t help feel though that the slightly more relaxed air between them was a direct result of him knowing somehow she’d received his message. 

 

“So, remember how I said I thought our plant was in my book?” Neville asked, running his left hand through his short, dark hair. His brow furrowed as he continued, “Well, uhh, I was wrong. It wasn’t even  _ close  _ to our plant, so...I guess we will definitely be working from scratch.” Pansy laughed, out loud, before clasping her hand to her mouth, horrified, as though she’d spoken an incredibly offensive term.  _ Keep up the fucking pretence. Don’t be a twat to him, but no niceties. _

 

Pansy herself frowned, blurting out a rushed, “Fine by me,” as she busied herself examining the nails on her left hand. 

 

_ It really has to stop,  _ Pansy told herself, swallowing, as she tried to ignore the way the slight enthusiasm appeared in his voice when he spoke about deciphering the puzzle that was their plant. Not for what people might say, not for the annoyance of Daphne’s probing, not wholly for her. But for  _ him _ . The realisation of just how much selflessness Pansy apparently was capable of possessing had come as something of a surprise to her. It was jarring, somehow, to know she was wholly thinking of an other.

 

But yet...it made perfect sense. The  _ only  _ sense.

 

Pansy’s father, at least, was in far too deep in the enormity that was the current war. And Pansy knew that meant  _ she  _ was in too deep also. She was on one side, despite how much she hated the fact. She would attempt to hinder it as much as she could without risking herself too much but she knew she was no hero, and she simply wasn’t prepared to blindly sacrifice herself like some reckless Gryffindor might. This secondary realisation halted her slightly less than the first.  _ Not quite that selfless, then. _ Neville, the tall boy she currently stood next to - that a small, yet annoyingly loud part of her wished against all else that she could, what? Touch? Kiss? More?- would do  _ whatever _ he could, she knew for definite, to defy the Carrows and the Dark Lord’s plans. His blood didn’t wholly run red, it was tinged with flecks of gold, somehow the small cowardly lump he’d once appeared as was as much a lion as any she’d seen. He’d do anything...and she simply wasn’t prepared to. 

 

The thought, as much as she tried to swat it away, only made her want him more. 

 

_ Why can’t you go back to looking like a bag of sand? That’d make this much easier. _

 

“Library?” Neville enquired. His eyebrows had shot up questioningly at her last response, though he’d said nothing and Pansy noted that he seemed slightly put out and her stomach dropped. Being a bitch when she  _ wanted  _ to be a bitch was one thing, and it was one thing Pansy had always been effortlessly gifted at, but it was a whole different matter when she  _ didn’t  _ wish to be but felt she had no other choice.  _ That  _ was, she was discovering, gut-wrenching. 

 

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice sad and her heart heavy. They walked in silence exiting the greenhouse, Neville holding the potted plant in his hands as they began the climb of the grounds towards the castle. 

 

“You know, you’ve surprised me this week,” Neville said, rather bluntly, as though he’d rushed and dared himself to speak his mind.  _ Oh shit, Longbottom. Don’t get deep with me! _

 

A simple “Oh?” was all she could muster. Her palms were beginning to sweat as she mentally repeated the word  _ pretence  _ over and over in her mind.

 

“I’ve had the distinct impression - for the first time ever, mind - that you don’t entirely hate me.”

 

Blinking, Pansy found her stride stop abruptly and felt her breath had done the same. She was going to have to lie. Somehow, she’d been more drawn to Neville in the last week than she had any male her entire life. She still didn’t remotely understand it; the way his eyes made her instantly weak, and his jaw,  _ Godric, his jaw!  _ made her stomach try to pull itself inside out. Tears pooled in her eyes. 

 

_ Oh my fucking hell, Pansy, whatever you do, you CANNOT cry in front of him. _

 

Swallowing hard, her tears seemed to take heed to her panicked thoughts, at least, while she continuously blinked. Opening her mouth, she readied herself to tell him what she  _ had  _ to tell him; that he was still just the same old  _ Fat Arse Longbottom… _

 

“That’s because...I...don’t…” Pansy trailed off weakly, instantly scolding herself internally despite the fact she knew from the minute he’d queried his thoughts aloud that she would never have lied to him, would never have insulted him to help cover her own skin.  _ But it’s not just my skin, it’s his too.  _

 

Neville nodded, his expression understanding, yet his eyes were worried. “Why?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Pansy admitted, honestly.  _ Flying fuck! What am I doing? _

 

Neville nodded some more. “I don’t know, either.” His words made Pansy’s breath catch even deeper in her throat.  _ He doesn’t, what?  _ They began walking again, their strides slow yet steady. Pansy desperately wanted to question him, to dissect every single part of the four words he’d just spoken.  _ He doesn’t what?!  _ They trekked in silence, and somehow now Pansy felt both comfortable yet also tense in his presence.  _ He doesn’t what?! _

 

“Pansy?” Neville ventured as they reached the vicinity of the main doors.

 

“Yes?” she turned to face him once more, though she may not have, had she known before she looked at him that his eyes would become even more startlingly open to her, as though they were saying a hundred things he wouldn’t allow his mouth to. 

 

“It’s...everything will...it’s okay. Or, it will be.”

 

His words cracked something deep inside of her, forcing her own reply to come out barely more than a croaked, emotional whisper. “I wish I could believe you.” And as she pushed past him, wishing more than anything that the arm she grazed past could somehow wrap itself around her, she hurried in front of him, until only one thought stayed in her mind: h _ e cannot see you cry.  _

 


	13. Believed the Lie

_ Right, Pansy, you need to get your shit together.  _

 

After all but actually running away from Neville, the highly embarrassing incident from a few days ago still made her cheeks flush when her thoughts momentarily drifted there. Ever since, she had received a number of notes, none signed, but all written in the same messy script. Currently, they were all currently laid out, in the order in which she’d received them _ ,  _ atop the dressing table she was sitting in front of. 

 

_ He’s a fan of notes,  _ Pansy mused, a small smile escaping her lips as she studied the scraps of parchment for what felt like the fiftieth time. 

 

_ Don’t worry. We can go to the library another time.  _

 

_ Didn’t see you at dinner, hope everything is OK.  _

 

_ Think I know what book our plant may be in, let me know when you can get together. Hope you’re ok.  _

 

_ Can we study together this weekend?  _

 

Pansy sighed, her eyes closing as she let her face fall into her awaiting arms, which were awaiting, crossed, on the table’s top. Before this year if anyone had sent her notes like this, in such quick succession with barely any knowledge of her, she’d have called them a needy shit and got on with her life. But the way she and Neville seemed to somehow have some sort of pull that Pansy completely and utterly failed to explain even to herself, she just didn’t have it in her to feel anything negative about him.

 

Attempting, yet again, to assess the situation, Pansy scrunched her nose up. She was incredibly and undeniably attracted to him, she knew that, even if it had taken until that first Herbology lesson for her to admit this fact to herself, _Pansy Parkinson hopelessly fancied Neville Longbottom_ was an unbelievable fact she knew to be entirely true. Swallowing hard, Pansy mentally weighed up every other part to this strange aspect of her life, an aspect that she certainly hadn’t expected when she boarded the Hogwarts Express only one week ago. Daphne was incredibly approving, and was still completely relentless in her quest for knowledge of any new developments between Pansy and Neville. A snort radiated from Pansy at that moment as the realisation of just how minor the developments in question had been until this point.

 

_ It’s pathetic really. _

 

Then there was Neville himself. 

 

Pansy glanced back at the four notes laid neatly on the surface in front of her. He was kind.  _ Really, really kind.  _ He had to be, this just proved that. He’d noticed she hadn’t been at dinner, that meant he’d  _ looked  _ for her at dinner. The recognition of this fact was enough to cover her arms in a layer of goosebumps and she hugged herself as she pictured his warm, blue eyes scan the Slytherin table for her. Had his brow furrowed when he noted her absence? Did he keep a close eye on the doors to watch for her entrance, which never came? Pansy hoped so, and hated herself for it, because she was still adamantly, almost stubbornly sure that she’d never let anything happen between them.  _ Too risky, too much at stake,  _ she thought again, and again. Until she  _ almost _ believed the lie herself. 

 

A voice broke Pansy’s train of thought, a voice so familiar to her she had to shake herself present enough to realise she hadn’t imagined it. 

 

“Pans,” Draco repeated.

 

Pansy turned her head to the right, to face her bedroom door as the torso of Draco Malfoy poked its way into the room. “Yeah?” She asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice her hastily gathering up the notes, placing them in a nearby drawer.

 

“You have a visitor.”

 

“Is it Daph?” Pansy inquired, puzzled as she remembered Daphne talking about some ‘batshit crazy runes essay _ ’  _ she’d wanted to finish that evening. 

 

“Nope,” Draco answered, elongating the  _ o  _ and peaking Pansy’s curiosity. 

 

She narrowed her eyes at the wizard as she stood from her dressing table stool and began to cross the bedroom. “I swear to Merlin, Draco, if this  _ visitor  _ is just Winky with the towels I asked for I’m going to hex you.”

 

“Oh, it’s  _ definitely  _ not Winky…” Draco trailed off, before crossing the small landing and entering his own bedroom. 

 

“Where are you-” 

 

Draco cut her off sharply, “There’s no doubt in my mind you’re going to send me packing anyway. I’m just speeding up the process.” 

 

“Alright then,” Pansy snapped, annoyed at his dismissiveness.

 

_ I hardly ever send you packing - fucking drama queen. _

 

She began to descend the staircase, her curiosity heightening as she approached the bottom step and she pushed the door that led to the living room ajar, before stepping through. She scanned the living room, quickly noticing its sole occupant. A tall, definitely not Daphne-shaped figure was seemingly examining the ugly cupcake picture. A dark blue t-shirt covered his upper body, and his wand was stashed haphazardly in the back pocket of a pair of too-old jeans.

 

Pansy gulped, he hadn’t yet noticed her presence and she spent a few long seconds just watching him. He gave his nose a quick scratch - Pansy probably shouldn’t have known that he did that a lot, before shoving his hands in his front pockets and turning and glancing around powder blue room. His expression was unreadable and blank, or it was until he noticed Pansy, standing in the doorway. She mentally noted how his eyes softened considerably as the pair stood, neither moving nor averting their eyes from the other. 

 

Pansy swallowed before she was the one to finally break the twinned gaze. She trailed her eyes over the parts of herself she was able to see with a sudden gulp of what, _exactly,_ she must look like. Her outfit was less than optimal for a meeting with the one person you were incredibly attracted to. A pair of large, cosy, knitted socks donned her feet; they were a mauve purple and could be pulled up to the bottoms of her thighs when straightened. At present they were bunched, untidily, around her ankles. Her legs were bare save for a pair of striped, grey and white pyjama shorts, and a large Slytherin Quidditch jersey hung unflatteringly over her torso. The jersey had belonged to Draco for about a week before Pansy had claimed it for herself several years ago, it was large and comfy and one of her favourite garments. Her dark hair was pulled back messily in a hurried bun and her makeup had long been removed.

 

_ I look like a fucking bag lady. _

 

Luckily, her visitor didn’t seem to mind as she noticed his eyes drift over her entirety in what was momentarily a very un-Neville-like manner. His gaze paused in the briefest of moments on her legs, which at least, Pansy thanked the Gods, were free of hair. 

 

Swallowing, Pansy looked back up her green gaze meeting his blue eyes once again. The corners of his eyes, she noticed, tugged slightly when he shot her a small smile. 

 

_ Breathe! _

 

“Hi, Pansy.”

 

Somehow, she managed to not squeak. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Longbottom?”

 

Neville took a small step forward. He was looking at her so intently Pansy felt as though he was questioning her a thousand times over, lines were grooved over his forehead, like a collection of parallel rivers and somehow Pansy was sure they were full of all the questions she knew he wanted to ask her. His stance was rigid and his mouth was a mere thin line, surrounded by his strong jaw. It was, however, his eyes that Pansy chose to focus her attention to. And even now, even with the concern that was exploding from the rest of his features, his eyes remained calm and kind and gentle. Even from across the room they calmed her and somehow made her feel, _almost_ believe, that everything would be alright, that everything _was_ alright. 

 

_ I don’t know how he does that. _

 

“I needed-” Neville began, and all of a sudden the collected demeanour that he’d displayed just a second before crumbled. Pansy recognised his metaphorical mask - something she supposed they did have in common, had melted away and she continued to watch quietly as he swallowed before he finished, somewhat meekly, “-to know you were okay.” 

 

Pansy blinked, her eyes never left his face and she wasn’t entirely sure she trusted her emotions to stay in check, yet she knew she couldn’t afford a repeat of last time.  _ NO! No, I’m not okay...NOTHING is okay and I don’t know what to do!  _ She screamed, internally, wishing more than anything at that moment to be able to tell him every worry, every trouble, and every doubt that was plastered, permanently into her mind. Knowing she couldn’t, Pansy settled on the only word she trusted herself to say outwardly. “Why?”

 

“I-I don’t know.” 

 

Pansy nodded, slowly. The answer, same as the one she’d given him only days before _ , _ confusing as it was, somehow made more sense than almost everything else currently going on this year. 

 

“Do you want to sit?” Pansy asked, gesturing towards the couch as she did. “I can get Winky to get some food if you…” trailing off, Pansy looked around awkwardly. She realised that outside of a classroom setting, and to be honest, even  _ in  _ a classroom setting, she had very little to talk to Longbottom about, she doubted greatly that they had even one thing in common. 

 

“Winky?” Neville queried. 

 

Pansy noticed the slightest hints of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Head Boy and Girl get a House Elf,” Pansy answered with a slight shrug as she moved towards the couch. 

 

Neville followed suit. They sat down almost simultaneously, granting them a far closer proximity than they’d shared thus far.

 

“I didn’t know that,” Neville mused aloud. “I never had a House Elf at home.”

 

“Neither did I, on both accounts,” Pansy said, beginning to relax as she told him the story of how she and Winky had first become acquainted. “-so I’m in the bathroom, through there,” she pointed through the door that led to the rest of the quarters, “-and then I hear Draco roar his fucking head off, so I run through and he’s holding Winky by her ears! Her ears are massive, by the way. And she’s just dangling there looking at him, and it’s sort of hilarious and sort of really, really  _ not _ , and then-” Pansy stopped. She looked at Neville, a genuine, wide smile on her face as she watched Neville laugh so hard he actually rocked back and forward in his seat. Pansy could do nothing to stop her joining him.

 

“Ahem,” a small, yet perfectly audible, squeak interrupted their hysterics. Pansy looked up, wiping a small tear from her left eye and forced her mouth closed, pursing her lips as she tried to stop herself from succumbing to even more laughter. To her left she felt Neville outwardly shake, she assumed he was in a similar predicament. 

 

“Hello, Winky,” Pansy managed to somehow say through gritted teeth. 

 

Winky, rather spectacularly, considering she had no eyebrows to raise, raised her eyebrows. “Winky heard her name, Miss,” the elf replied. Pansy noticed she was clearly rather grumpy about the witch’s choice of anecdote.  _ Oh, damn. I bet she heard all of that. _

 

“Right, yeah. Winky could we get some food please?” 

 

“Of course, would Miss like Winky to surprise Miss, and...ohhhhh-” The elf paused, her large eyes now resting on Neville. She continued, much more enthusiastically, “Winky hasn’t met  _ this _ young Master before, has Miss got herself a mate? Oh, this is most exciting for Winky!” 

 

“No! Oh, my Gods, Winky shut up!” Pansy squealed, as Neville erupted into a new round of hysterics. Winky turned on her small heel, and Pansy, now rather furious with the elf, swore she heard the words,  _ “ _ Teach Miss to discuss Winky’s mishap with Master with any old boy Miss brings to the rooms that Winky cares to, so it does.”

 

Pansy felt her face frown as she glared at the spot Winky had just occupied.  _ Fucking elf. _

 

“I like Winky,” Neville stated happily.

 

“I, currently, do not,” Pansy exclaimed, willing herself not to giggle any more as Neville barked a singular, carefree laugh himself. 

 

Tentatively, she began to speak again, careful not to use Winky’s name aloud this time, “So, I hadn’t had much experience of House Elves before, only Tula, who is Daphne’s family Elf. And honestly,” Pansy dropped her voice to a whisper, “I had no idea House Elves had such attitudes!”

 

“We never had an elf,” Neville repeated. “I thought you would have, being a Parkinson and everything.” The sentence could have so easily been laced with a sneer, an insult, and had it come from the mouths of a number of students, it would have. But if Neville meant any hint of snide at Pansy’s last name, he hid it well. 

 

Pansy shook her head, trying to hide the sadness she knew must now be in her eyes, thoughts of her childhood filling her mind like quicksand. Ever since she met Tula, the same day she’d met Daphne, Pansy had wished and wished her mother would get a House Elf. Lilith instead opted to pay cleaning witches to serve the Parkinson homestead, cleaning witches which were always informed _ not to bother with the child.  _

 

“You alright?” She heard Neville ask. Pansy shook herself physically and mentally, forcing herself to focus on the now.

 

“Yeah, I just, didn’t really like my childhood.”

 

_ Why am I telling him this? _

 

Neville looked up, staring at the wall that faced them. “Me neither.”

 

_ Well, at least we do have one thing in common,  _ Pansy thought with a sad twinge in her heart as she mimicked the way he stared at the wall. Pansy swallowed and the two settled into a comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts until they were involuntarily pulled back into the present by a familiar squeak.

 

“Winky has brought Miss and her new mate lots of lovely foods!”

  
  


They quickly finished most of the food Winky had acquired, which Pansy had developed a spluttering coughing fit the moment she’d seen the contents of the tray the elf was carrying. A plate of oysters- 

 

_ Fucking oysters, are you off your head Winky?  _

 

_ - _ was situated next to a larger plate, this one containing nothing but a stack of ribs- 

 

_ I don’t even know what you’re thinking is on that one _

 

-and a third small platter held some halved strawberries and a small bowl of what looked like melted chocolate.

 

_ You are something else, Elf. _

 

Neville sunk back into the couch as Pansy curled her feet beneath her legs, turning her torso to the left to face the Gryffindor. Her left elbow was propped against the back of the couch fabric, a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun twirling between her left thumb and index finger. 

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” he said, after clearing his throat.

 

“In my pyjamas, with rib sauce all over me? No, I don’t suppose you have.”

 

“Ha! Well, yes,  _ that,  _ but I meant... you know, relaxed.”

 

“To be honest, a relaxed me isn’t a very common sight at the moment, feel privileged, Longbottom.”

 

“I do,” Neville answered, quietly. 

 

_ Me too. _

 

The comfortable silence they’d sat in earlier returned, until the door leading to the corridor containing the kitchen and bathroom opened, and the sound of Draco clearing his throat broke the quiet. 

 

“Don’t suppose you mind me sitting in my own living room, do you Pans?”

 

“I never once minded, you pillock,” Pansy snapped tartly, which earned her a snort from both Draco and Neville simultaneously. 

 

“Alright, Longbottom?” Draco added, sounding surprised himself when he spoke the words. “Suppose I’d better get used to you hanging around, should I?” He flopped into his chair, taking turns glaring back and forth at Neville and Pansy.

 

“Um, what? No, no not really. Shut up, Draco.”

 

_ Smooth, Pansy. _

 

“Oh,” Draco began and executed an exaggerated eye roll. “Still in denial then, well that’s fun. Where’s my whisky?” He added, his grey eyes beginning to search the perimeter of the living room. 

 

“Draco, I am  _ not _ in-”

 

“-there it is. _Accio_ liquid-of-perfection!” Draco snorted again, this time at himself as the bottle flew into his outstretched hand, completely ignoring Pansy and the fact he’d cut her off. The blonde sighed. “I cannot believe I’m even contemplating this but, Longbottom, whisky?”

 

“Sure,” Neville answered, his voice laced with a touch of uncertainty. “Thanks...Malfoy.”

 

Draco grunted in response before summoning Winky back into the room. “Winky we need three glasses tonight.”

 

“Oh yes, of course, Master. Winky is most pleased to fetch them for you. And I must say, Winky is most pleased that Master has put all his jealousy aside, in favour of being a good host to Miss Pansy’s new mate.”

 

“Fucking excuse me!? Jealous? I’ve never been jealous in my life. Winky you come and take that back right now. Winky! WINKY!” Draco had sprung from his seat in annoyance and was looking around haughtily. 

 

“I think she’s gone Draco,” Pansy tried not to laugh, getting an overwhelming sense of deja vu as she felt Neville do the same beside her.

 

“Well,” Draco slumped back down, clearly still unhappy. “I am  _ not  _ jealous, just so you know. And if I was going to be jealous of someone, it  _ certainly  _ is not going to be of  _ him, _ ” he spat, opting to swig his first drink of firewhisky straight from the bottle. “Fucking elf,” he muttered just in time for Winky to prance back into the room, a small circular tray bobbing over her head as she did. Pansy was certain she heard the elf omit a small chuckle to herself.

  
Neville left an hour or so later after he and Pansy had agreed to start working on their Herbology project together the following weekend. The three had, somehow, managed to have multiple laughs, tell a multitude of stories, and generally have a good time.

 

“Well,” Draco began, his words slurring together into one. “if you had told me last week that I’d be having a whisky with fucking Longbottom, I’d have stuck my wand up your arse. But he’s actually  _ not _ the worst person in the world. Funny what spending the summer living with a psychotic mass murdering tyrant will do to your perception.”

 

Pansy snorted, she didn’t know what to feel, the alcohol coursing through her system was certainly not helping her process any thoughts or emotions. 

  
“You really like Longbottom?” Draco asked, watching her through heavy, almost entirely closed eyes. Pansy stared back at him, one of her oldest friends, her first  _ everything,  _ someone she trusted with her life, and the person she’d never managed to successfully lie to, and nodded, slowly, in the same rhythm as Draco’s fresh snores. 


	14. Something to Fight For

If anyone had informed Pansy Parkinson, prior to the beginning of this week, that she’d be stressing about what to do with her hair, to go study with Neville Longbottom of all people, she would have thought them delirious. Yet, that was exactly the predicament Pansy found herself facing that particular weekend. She had gotten as far as glamouring her slightly faded, and therefore even more hideous _,_ green locks black again. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” she cried out, not for the first time that morning, when her third attempted hairstyle fell flat back against her head.

 

_ I’m just fucking destined for boring, straight, lifeless hair forever  _

 

“What’s wrong with you?” a croaky drawl asked from behind her door.

 

“My. Fucking. Hair. Is. A. Piece. Of. Shit,” Pansy snapped over her shoulder as Draco’s own untidy mop appeared around the door, sipping a mug of tea.

 

“It looks the same as it always does.”

 

“Yes, Draco,” Pansy replied in an impatient hiss, “that’s the problem.”

 

“Right, do you want a cup of tea? Winky just made-”

 

“No, Draco I do  _ not _ want tea. Unless it’s magic fucking tea that can make my hair do anything other than  _ this _ .” At the last word Pansy grabbed handfuls of her black locks at either side, holding them in place for a few seconds before letting them drop, ungracefully, back to their original position. 

 

“Honestly Pans,” Draco began, through sporadic sips of his tea, “I doubt Longbottom will care too much.” He smirked and cockily raised his eyebrows.

 

“That is  _ not _ -”

 

“Don’t even try, Parkinson.”

 

Pansy narrowed her eyes but conceded to his order.  _ Fucking know-it-all. _

 

“I’m serious Pans, you can see it a fucking mile off. For some batshit crazy reason he thinks the fucking sun shines out of your unmentionables”

“ _ Unmentionables?”  _ Pansy queried with a smirk, Draco was never one to mince his words, especially when it came to Pansy’s… _ unmentionables. _

 

“Would you prefer I said cunt?”

 

“Fair point,” Pansy answered with an amused outtake of breath. “Draco?”

 

“Hmm?” Draco finished his tea, placing the cup on Pansy’s bedside table and sitting on her bed. 

 

Pansy swallowed, choosing her words carefully. Draco may annoy and tease her, but his opinion mattered greatly to Pansy. He was a logical being, rarely driven by emotion over action, and as he always had been, remained her greatest ally. “Do you think it’s wrong? The idea of me and Longbottom?”

  
“Yes,” Draco answered bluntly. “But not for the reason you do, it’s fucking mental. I’d have got fantastic odds had I ever chose to bet on your next suitor, but the world has gone to shit Pans, grab some fucking happiness while you still can.” His words stunned her into silence. Not only because they were so  _ un-Draco,  _ but they somehow actually made sense. “Just don’t get stupid,” Draco continued. “Don’t give anyone  _ any _ reason to suspect you have anything other than having a loyalty to the Dark Lord.” Nodding, Pansy looked downwards, unseeing. Could she really have happiness? The concept seemed almost abstract now. She was still contemplating the risks when, at her silence, Draco spoke once more, “It’s no use just having something to fight  _ against,  _ you need something to fight  _ for _ .”

 

“When did you get so wise, Draco Malfoy?”

 

“I had a lot of time to think this summer,” he replied, as his eyes met Pansy’s and she nodded again. 

 

“Thanks, Draco.”

 

“Plus,” Draco’s signature smirk was planted firmly back on his pale face. “at least one of us should get laid.”

 

Pansy picked up her hairbrush from the dressing table she was sitting in front of, launched it across the room, narrowly missing Draco’s head.

 

“Hey now!” 

 

They laughed together briefly before Pansy paused, considering him. “What are you fighting for?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Draco paused also, she didn’t miss his face wincing slightly at her words.

 

“My mother,” Draco answered quietly before Pansy stood from her stool, crossed the bedroom and plopped herself down next to the wizard. The pair simultaneously threw their arms around each other. 

 

Draco stroked the back of Pansy’s head, his other arm pressing them together as she heard him whisper softly in her ear, “Go be happy.”

  
  


The library was fairly deserted when Pansy entered. Straightened her shoulders, she began to make her way through bookcase after bookcase, until she reached the Herbology section. She stopped when she saw him, sitting alone at a wooden bench and scrutinising the contents page of a large textbook. His hand propped up his head, by the looks of him he’d roughly pushed it through his short, dark hair and his brow was furrowed whilst his other hand was roaming over the page of the textbook.

 

Pansy cleared her throat, amused to see that the noise made Neville flinch in surprise. 

 

“Hi,” she said, moving towards the opposite bench from the one Neville was currently occupying.

 

“Hey! You scared me,” He smiled warmly as he spoke, his eyes resting on her face longer than necessary as she took her seat.

 

“Found our plant, yet?” 

 

“Nope. I’m starting to think it just doesn’t exist,” Neville responded, as Pansy emitted a small laugh. He looked back down at the text. “Oh, wait, here’s something about oddly coloured leaves, hang on.” He found the corner of the correct page and pulled the rest of the pages forward, revealing several pictures of large, spotted, but still primarily green, leaves. “Well,” Neville began, his expression almost one of amusement, “these are definitely not blue.”

 

“ _ Definitely _ not blue,” Pansy repeated Neville’s words to him.

 

An hour later, Pansy and Neville vacated the library, having exhausted all the books that looked as though they may be helpful. Neville had presented the idea to go and examine their plant once more in person, and Pansy was grateful to have the opportunity to leave the stuffy library if nothing else, _but_ _certainly not because I want to walk next to him._

 

It was common knowledge that the seventh years had been paired up randomly in several subjects and no one paid the two much attention; their assigned work was the perfect opportunity to walk together in a normal fashion, if such a thing existed. 

 

Their conversation had varied greatly. It was solely related to their mystery plant for the first ten minutes after Pansy’s arrival, until Neville had decided to ask how Draco’s head was feeling that morning. Pansy raised her eyebrows, momentarily forgetting that only she was accustomed to Draco’s excessive drinking habits. The volume of whisky the Head Boy was beginning to consume on a nightly basis, Pansy remembered at Neville’s words, was far from normal and would have granted most people a vicious hangover the morning after, if not a trip to the hospital wing. 

 

“He’s growing used to it,” she answered honestly.

 

Neville had said nothing, but she saw his brow scrunch up slightly at her answer. “I can’t even believe I’m asking this,” Neville began, “but, is he, you know,  _ alright? _ Drinking that much on a regular basis is probably not a great sign. It’s none of my business, of course, feel free to tell me to shut up.”

 

“No it...it’s okay,” Pansy replied, not entirely sure what to say. Was it a betrayal of her to speak of Draco’s private actions behind his back? “No, I don’t really think he is alright, to be honest,” she answered, sadly. It was no secret, to her alone anyway, that last year, closely followed by the summer, had had a definite effect on Draco. 

 

Neville nodded but did not pry further about Draco. He looked into Pansy’s face and she looked down at the table, examining the Gryffindor’s clasped hands, saying nothing. “So, uh, are you enjoying Seventh Year?” Neville asked, finally breaking the silence that had ensued post-Draco discussion. 

 

Pansy snorted, rounding her head to face him once more. “Are you?”

 

“Oh, well I’m being Crucio’d on the regular and taught that the majority of my friends are scum, and then I got pissed with Draco Malfoy so, I’m fairly certain this year is actually taking place in an alternate universe.”

 

Pansy let out a bark of laughter at his words. “I think you might be right.”

 

Their conversation had relaxed somewhat and a comfortable flow weaved into their words, which primarily involved discussing the absurd new Hogwarts _. _

 

Frowning as they approached the Greenhouses, Pansy ventured,“I’m fairly certain Sprout doesn’t just allow students to wander into the Greenhouses on weekends.”

 

“She wouldn’t let  _ you,  _ no,” Neville spoke the words with a grin. 

 

_ Charming.  _ Pansy raised her eyebrows, humouring him as she allowed him to lead the way across the grounds. It was a chilly day, but the sky was almost entirely clear of clouds. Pansy squinted in the low-lying sun and breathed deeply as she walked. She noticed Neville take several sideways glances in her direction, his mouth still twisted into a mischievous-looking smile. 

 

“What?” she demanded.

 

His simple response entirely unhelpful in answering her question. “Just... you.”

 

“What about me?” Pansy queried, her tone harsher than she meant.

 

“You’re still so full of surprises, and I like that you like autumn days,” Neville answered to a stunned Pansy.

 

_ How the fuck do you know that?   _ “What makes you think I like autumn days?”

 

“Because the second you stepped outside you looked towards those,” he pointed off to their right, where a small huddle of bare trees were standing. “And you had the faintest smile when you saw them. You had the same faint smile when you zipped your coat up, and then again when you took a deep breath. I mean, it is just a hunch, but I’d say you like autumn days.”

 

_ Woah, nicely played Longbottom. _

 

“I do,” Pansy answered, fairly stunned at his response. “With the exception of those fucking things.” Pansy pointed towards the sky over the forest, where a dementor could be seen looming. Pansy shuddered, grateful for the chance to be outside but suddenly hopeful it wouldn't be too long a jaunt. 

 

“They’re awful, aren't they?” Neville said in response, following Pansy’s gaze to the creature.

 

Pansy wished she'd never mentioned the dementor, and chose to steer the conversation back to the place it had been after Neville had made his autumn day observation. “You’re a bit of a creep Longbottom, do you know that?” she added, with another small smile.

 

“I’m not usually,” Neville confessed. “Do you mind?”

 

Pansy paused her stride, watching him as Neville followed suit, stopping also. A breeze blew through the grounds, momentarily whipping Pansy’s hair wildly around her head, her breath somewhere around her throat as she swallowed, not allowing her eyes to leave his as she answered, “I think, somehow, you know I don’t.”

 

She noticed him smiling again as they continued their slow walk towards the greenhouse door.

  
  


Pansy and Neville had spent a good twenty minutes in Greenhouse Three; Pansy having been most impressed that Neville possessed a set of keys. 

 

“How the bloody hell?” She had gasped, her first thought being that she should write Neville up a detention for stealing, before remembering  _ who  _ was holding the keys, and found it very hard to believe that Neville had actually become a thief. 

 

He merely shrugged. “Professor Sprout knows I want to take Herbology further after Hogwarts, she said if I ever wish to do some extra studying in here, I could.”

 

“Huh,” Pansy replied, her eyebrows raised first in disbelief and then admiration.  _ He’s really...trusted. _

 

The potted plants for the seventh year assignment were located in a tray, on a high shelf, within a large cupboard at the far end of the glass room. Neville opted not to levitate the tray magically but lifted it down himself. Which caused the bottom of his grey hooded jumper to lift up for the briefest of moments, in which Pansy was able to get a small view of his stomach.

 

_ Damn Longbottom! You’ve got abs!  _

 

The short look at Neville’s midriff had produced a number of distinct, physical changes in Pansy’s body. Her heartbeat was suddenly beating profusely in her ears, her mouth felt dry, and her breathing was ragged and barely even. 

  
“Everything okay? You look red,” Neville asked, which caused the warmth on her cheeks, that Pansy was all too aware of already, to burn hotter, and she assumed, made her face redden further.  _ Bugger.  _

 

“Yep, I’m fine. Did you get the plant? Oh yeah,” Pansy over-enthusiastically examined the tray Neville had placed at the end of the long, wooden table that ran the centre of the Greenhouse. “there it is!”  _ And now I sound crazy. _

 

Neville picked their plant up by its pot and lifted it from the tray, before once more stretching his tall form to replace the tray on the topmost shelf.  _ Oh, hello Longbottom’s abs. It’s been a while.  _

 

“You ready?” Neville asked, gesturing towards the door, once the tray was back in its original position.

 

_ Oh, you have no idea.  _ Pansy let out a small cough, feeling incredibly grateful in that moment that Neville was not an accomplished Legilimens. “Yeah, will it be okay to take it with us?” 

 

“We can replace it afterwards, it won’t be a problem.”

 

_ Excellent, that means I’ll see your abs again.  _ Pansy nodded in response as they began to make their way towards the Greenhouse door, surprised when Neville stopped, he was in front of her and therefore leading the pair towards the exit.

 

“Pansy?”

 

“Yeah?” 

 

He had turned on the spot to face her. Rarely had they been in this position, and it was only then that Pansy realised just how tall and built Neville now was. She had no idea why he’d stopped them here, but she did know that somehow, his presence made her feel a little bit safer. 

 

“You look... really pretty today. I just...wanted you to know that. I know I can’t really say it,” he gestured with a nod of his head towards the door, “out there.”

 

Pansy took a second to answer, her thoughts whirled as they stood. “Thank you,” she eventually managed to breathe, no louder than a whisper. “I-I’m glad you did tell me.”

 

Neville nodded, looking down at her intently. He didn’t speak and neither did she. They were simply  _ there _ together, and as Pansy looked at his face it felt as though every piece of their lives was stripped away. In Greenhouse Three they were no longer Pansy Parkinson, daughter of a Death Eater, promised servant to Voldemort, and Neville Longbottom, self-proclaimed fighter and advocate for the resistance. There was no Gryffindor, or Slytherin, or even Hogwarts. No rivalry, no fighting, and no war. Just... _ them. _

 

Pansy held her breath, not knowing if she was brave enough to believe he had taken a tiny step forward, towards her. Neville made a few more small movements until she  _ knew _ she wasn't imagining him coming closer to her. Her pounding heart was the only sound Pansy was aware of. She felt a hand softly land on her right arm, and after daring herself to look up, Neville’s face was slowly, but surely, closing in on her own. She instinctively held her breath as she felt herself move just the tiniest bit forward.

 

She could see each individual one of his facial hairs and feel each of his warm breaths when a sound both disturbing and inescapably loud forced their attentions away from each other. Pansy and Neville both turned to face the door, pulling out their wands in unison as the piercing scream rang out once more.


	15. So Utterly un-Longbottom

Neville and Pansy reacted in a perfect unison as they grabbed their respective wands, both bringing the thin, magical instruments upwards in an identical narrow sweep. All thoughts  _ almost _ forgotten of what had been mere seconds away from happening as the pair locked their eyes together for a brief - and somehow reassuring, second. Neville moved first, Pansy right behind as they swiftly crossed the floor of the greenhouse. Pansy’s breath was unintentionally being held somewhere beneath her chest as she watched Neville throw the glass door open, his wand held high and concern now covering his face.

 

The scream echoed again, and Pansy hadn’t contemplated the fact that the greenhouse walls muffled any outside noise and the piercing cry of distress felt altogether more alarming without the thick glass cushioning the sound. Instinctively, bringing her own wand up higher, Pansy poised herself in the position she needed to be in, to defend…

 

_...or attack.  _

 

Neville stopped at the doorway, wand arm raised as he clearly scrutinised the vicinity of the grounds. His left arm had shot sideways, straight and still across the remainder of the doorway, essentially fencing Pansy in the greenhouse. She wrinkled her nose for a fleeting moment, having crashed into his temporary barrier. She had no time to evaluate her feelings towards his blatant act of protection, however, as a third, and arguably more alarming scream broke the silence echoing over the seemingly deserted landscape. 

 

“The lake!” Neville cried. 

 

The two shot off, Neville taking a hairbreadth of a lead, towards the Black Lake. Pansy could scarcely remember the last time she ran anywhere, pure adrenaline guiding her, allowing her to keep up with Neville’s quick pace. Two further screams broke the surrounding air as they ran, this time closer together and fainter, the latter seeming to stop abruptly, as though altogether cut off.

 

The surface of the water became clear to Pansy the closer they got, and sure enough, various sparks could be seen flying. Some were fizzling into the black water, clearly having missed their intended target, others merely flying in the air haphazardly. There were a few, more than a few, that were obviously successful in their determined flight path. She and Neville slowed to a stop, inspecting the scene, and Pansy saw with certainty, the shape of a young girl on her knees; alone, and wandless.

 

Pansy didn’t have to look far to find the other half of this sinister scenario, and in absolute horror, she counted not one opposing figure, but two. Two large bodies stood, not far away from the girl, lights darting from all of their wands. Their backs were to the Castle, and Pansy and Neville stood unseen for a short second before Pansy’s peripheral vision informed her that Neville’s wand was raised as he took aim. Spinning around, a plan having already formulated in her mind, she raised a hand, hoping to momentarily pause his advance and not wanting him to hex without hearing her first.

 

He spun on the spot, rounding on her, his face was unlike she had ever witnessed it. His stance alone was threatening. 

 

“Don’t you dare stop me, they’re  _ torturing  _ her. She looks to be about a third year, and, Merlin,” he pointed to the sky above the lake, “we’re going to have company.” 

 

Pansy’s eyes had widened in shock the moment he’d turned on her. A side of Longbottom that seemed so utterly _un-Longbottom_ she would scarcely have believed it existed had she not seen it with her own eyes, and yet what felt the most unbelievable was not his actions, but his words - _Don’t you dare stop me._ That’s what he had said. He believed she wouldn’t put a stop to this? Did he think she felt a loyalty to Crabbe and fucking Goyle right now? She glanced away from him briefly, his words still stinging, in order to see what he had seen in the sky and gasped. A genuine fear crept over her as a number of dementors had begun to make their way, soundlessly, towards the scene. Pansy’s mind went into overdrive, and taking charge of the situation she said hurriedly, “Go for Goyle, I’ll get Crabbe.” 

 

She heard Neville inhale sharply, and saw him quickly incline his head before his wand poised again, towards the head of Gregory Goyle.

  
Pansy herself reeled around, instantly spotting the figure of a girl she’d once considered a friend, a hollow, victory-fueled laugh emitted from Vincent Crabbe’s cold stature. 

“Stupefy!” she cried, mimicking the spell Neville had said loudly a second before. 

 

Goyle hit the ground just as Crabbe began to fall, he hit the ground with an undignified and large thud that even Pansy, who was standing with Neville a good twenty feet away, heard quite clearly. 

  
The girl by the water had been crouched on her knees with her head in her hands. Pansy saw her gingerly look up, gawking at the sight of her two attackers lying, unmoving, on the ground. Pansy breathed deeply, noticing the breath she’d taken was exhaled in a cloud of white mist whilst she simultaneously realised she had begun to shiver.  _ Dementors. Shit.  _

 

“Longbottom, we need to move!” 

 

“I know, I know…Hey! Come on!” Neville shouted, gesturing wildly to the girl by the lake. Luckily, she didn’t need telling twice and Pansy watched, relieved as she began a sprint towards them. When the girl reached them Pansy saw her face had two distinct hex marks, resembling burns, and the collar of her grey T-shirt was torn badly, the garment close to coming undone entirely.

 

“C’mon!” Pansy cried to the young girl and Neville, knowing that the impending dementors left no time for either formalities or niceties. 

 

Somehow, they made it within a close proximity to the castle, the sun was high in the cloudless sky and the picturesque Scottish view would have looked beautiful to Pansy - were she not running for her life from crazed soul-sucking creatures, of course. Risking a glance over her shoulder, Pansy’s mind eased as she saw no sign of dementors close by. The only one currently visibly to her still looming over the forest, quite a distance away. Her two companions slowed to her lead and the unlikely trio halted, all gasping for breath.

 

The main doors to the castle were open, and the three began to walk towards the large entrance. It was Neville who spoke first, addressing the girl who looked no older than fourth-year, directly. “What’s your name?” Pansy heard him enquire.

 

“Olivia,” she replied, her voice barely more than a terrified sounding squeak.

 

“Okay, Olivia, I’m Neville. This...is Pansy. I’m going to take you to the Hospital Wing now, okay? Madame Pomfrey needs to see those marks on your face.” Olivia nodded in response, her eyes still wide, but Pansy noted the alarm had left her expression somewhat at Neville’s words.

 

“There’s something I...we, need from you though, okay? When Madame Pomfrey asks you what happened, I need you to only mention me, not Pansy, can you do that?”

 

Olivia nodded, before turning to face Pansy. “Yes, I can. But...I’m really grateful.”

  
Pansy gulped, nodding. She felt overwhelmed with everything, and yet nothing in particular. She wanted to scream, and cry, and hex the shit out of Crabbe and Goyle, wondering briefly whether the dementors would kiss their stupefied bodies, whilst only a second later realising that she didn’t care if they did. Not knowing how to put anything into words,  she continued nodding, mutely. Her eyes left Olivia’s scarred face and looked up at Neville. Her admiration for him had increased ten-fold in the last fifteen or so minutes, yet, his words echoed through her all over again, a river of hurt flowing through her veins.  _ Don’t you dare stop me.  _ She swallowed.  _ Did you really believe I wanted to? _

 

His eyes met hers, the pair of beautiful and unreadable blue orbs. “Can you wait, in the library, where we were earlier?”

 

Pansy let a long breath out through her nose, and yet again not trusting herself to emit a single word, nodded once and turned on her heel before her eyes betrayed her to him again. The three entered the Castle and separated; Neville and Olivia towards the Hospital Wing and Pansy towards the library, silently, as though it was no more than mere coincidence that brought them entering the Castle together at that moment.

  
  


The library was empty, for the most part. Something Pansy was altogether grateful for as she made her way through the countless shelves of heavy tomes, ending up at the exact table her and Neville had occupied only an hour, or so, prior.  _ Most eventful hour of my fucking life.  _

 

Pansy’s mind seemed to be in fast forward. She remembered the morning, where she’d fretted over her hair.  _ Hair! Talk about a trivial problem. _

 

The sight of Neville’s rather pleasing midriff, and the memory of him closing himself into her drifted in and out of the view of her mind’s eye. They’d been so close before they’d heard Olivia scream.  _ Did I really almost kiss Neville Longbottom? _

 

And then, of course there was his  _ Don’t you dare stop me _ . It had been accompanied by a look that Pansy hoped against hope that he never directed at her again. But the very fact it  _ had  _ been? Well, didn’t that just prove he held significant doubt over her allegiances?  _ Can’t really blame him,  _ Pansy thought with a heavy heart, wondering if this is what the rest of her days would entail. 

 

Neville didn’t take long to appear from the Hospital Wing, considering. Yet it had felt like an age to Pansy, who had sat, stark still, arms loosed over her chest. She felt his hand tap her shoulder lightly as he cleared his throat lightly. She turned her face to meet his and was relieved to see a small smile on his face.  _ Doesn’t seem like he absolutely hates me, at least that’s something.  _

 

Neville, unlike Pansy, didn’t take the same seat he’d been occupying this morning. Instead, he chose to take the seat nearest to his current position, next to her other side. Her arms tightened around herself as she waited for him to speak, feeling an unpleasant sinking feeling as he opened his mouth to address her. “I owe you an apology.”

 

_ You...what?  _ Pansy blinked, fairly certain she’d misheard. “For what?” Her words blunter than she intended.

 

“I...assumed...wrongly out there. It wasn’t you. Please believe me when I say I would have reacted the same had I felt  _ anyone  _ was trying to stop me from...well, stopping that.”

 

“You didn’t think I was protecting them?”

 

“It...wasn’t about you, or them. It just  _ was.  _ It’s complicated, sort of, but it’s entirely about me. And I’m sorry, for the way I turned on you about it.”

 

Pansy nodded, relief washing over her as she processed his words, which didn’t really answer a whole lot, but gave Pansy enough alleviation from her worry. She watched him for a few seconds more; his face had dropped downwards, his eyes looking at the desk in front of them, but Pansy knew he was really miles away, a look upon him she’d only seen properly once, when the wand of Alecto Carrow was pointed towards him.

 

“Tell me,” she said before she gave herself the opportunity to wonder if it was a good idea to pry so hard. “If...if you want to, I mean.”

 

Neville breathed deeply through his nose, not acknowledging her words straight away. She saw his eyes shut tightly, as an expression of pain on his face heightened. “It’s okay,” Pansy whispered, horrified at the effect that whatever was causing him such emotional turmoil was doing to him. “You don’t have to-” she stopped as he raised his head, blue eyes meeting green. Pansy continued, “You can tell me if you want, or you can tell me nothing if that’s easier. But you  _ can _ trust me, Neville.” 

 

Neville jerked at her words, his name had sounded foreign, coming from her mouth, even to Pansy herself. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever said his first name aloud before, and from the way Neville’s eyebrow raised slightly, neither was he.

 

“I know. I don’t know  _ how  _ I know, but for some bonkers reason I do trust you,” he said. 

 

Pansy smiled softly at his use of the word  _ bonkers,  _ such a small thing highlighting just how different they were, as Pansy’s own choice of descriptor of the same thing would have probably contained more than a few expletives. “I...trust you too,” she replied quietly. “It is totally...  _ bonkers, _ ” she finished, shooting him a sly smile, which earned her a small laugh from the Gryffindor. 

 

“Swearing suits you much more, you know,” he said with another quick chuckle.

 

“Thank fuck,” Pansy answered, joining his laugh.

 

Neville watched her, his hands clasped together tightly the entire time he’d been sitting, separated. His left arm, the closest to her, reached forward and brushed a single, stray dark hair away from her eye. The slight movement caused Pansy to involuntarily shudder slightly, knowing that, in that moment, him touching her was all she wanted. She turned her head towards him, not caring that they were in the library and could be come across at any given moment, by any given person. 

 

In that moment, it was no longer about wanting him.

 

It was about  _ needing  _ him. 

 

He brought his hand down again, much to Pansy’s disappointment. She watched, as he swallowed, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke, “Torture is not an easy thing for me to deal with. I was raised by my grandmother because...my parents live in St. Mungo’s. They were tortured...really badly, by Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband, and his brother…” 

 

_...and his brother.  _

 

Pansy felt a sick heat somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Rodolphus Lestrange had only one brother. 

 

“They endured so many Cruciatus Curses that….they went insane,” Neville finished. 

 

Pansy listened in silence, horrified. If she hadn’t already changed her allegiance entirely, watching Neville confess the most painful part of his life, would have been the moment she defected. 

 

“I never...never knew,” Pansy answered, meekly. She felt a strong urge to do something, anything to comfort him. 

 

_ Fuck them all.  _

 

With even less thought than before about the fact they were not in any sort of privacy, Pansy leaned towards Neville, snaking her arms around his neck, feeling confident enough she could hex anyone who happened to come across them at that moment into oblivion. She felt him hesitate for a fraction of a second before he allowed himself to be pulled into her fully, his hands grabbing fistfuls of her hair as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

 

Pansy didn’t know how long they stayed like that, holding each other, each leaning into the other, as though they were the only two people left on Earth, but she did know that for the first time in her life,  _ this  _ was where she was meant to be. She considered his words again, and the unspoken part where she just knew she was one of only few people to know his deepest secret, a fact which saddened and humbled her all at once. She breathed deeply, inhaling him. 

 

He smelled of earth... _ and autumn days _ . 

 

“It’s probably not even going to be in  _ any _ book  _ here!”  _ A vaguely familiar voice spoke into the quiet of the library. 

 

_ Shit!  _ It had been well and good for Pansy to definitely think that she cared not about them getting caught, it was quite another thing to actively allow herself to remain in a compromising position with Neville whilst they were made aware of an impending intrusion, something he seemed to agree on as they broke apart simultaneously. 

 

A pair of sixth-year Ravenclaws came into view, both stopping abruptly at the obscure sight of Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom sitting together. Pansy began to panic, feeling entirely caught off guard.. She scowled at the two boys, whilst darting her eyes at Neville, who was facing away from the approaching pair, facing Pansy with a smile upon his face. Pansy frowned as Neville shot her a quick wink, before slamming a clenched fist upon the desk and beginning a tangent that Daphne would have been proud of, his voice raised and his arms flying dramatically as he got up from his seat and began to stomp about. 

 

“You are one of the  _ worst  _ partners I’ve  _ ever  _ been given, do you know that? I’ve done every bit of work for Herbology while you’ve sat there brushing your bloody hair! Which doesn’t look any better, by the way, Parkinson!”

 

Pansy’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped, Neville was still facing her, away from the two Ravenclaws, his eyebrows were raised and his top teeth were biting his lower lip to stop himself from laughing. She looked over his shoulder, the two boys looked altogether less shocked but had busied themselves closeby, clearly interested in Pansy’s response. 

 

_ Well, it had better be believable... _

 

The slap echoed through the library and Pansy saw the Ravenclaws raise their eyes, look at each other quickly and hot foot it from the room.

 

“Hey!” Neville hissed. “You didn’t have to hit me!”

  
“I’ll make it up to you later, maybe.”

 

“Looking forward to it,” Neville replied, with an uncharacteristic smirk.

 

Pansy narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be talking shit about my hair, Longbottom.”

 

“Your hair is lovely.”

 

“Much better.”

 

Neville looked over his shoulder, his eyes darting in every direction before relaxing, resting back upon Pansy. “I think they’re gone.”

 

“I think you’re right.”

 

Somehow, they were now both standing though Pansy wasn’t entirely sure she remembered standing up. Neville took a step towards her just as Pansy bit her bottom lip, her heart suddenly beating fast as a strong, captivating sense of deja vu took over her. Neville emulated the exact way he moved towards her in the greenhouse earlier. Pansy swallowed, taking a step towards him also. He was so close to her now, she could, once again, make out the individual hairs of his stubble, until…

 

A set of footsteps, accompanied by a loud, distinctly  _ Irish,  _ “You here, Nev?”

 

_ Are you fucking kidding me?! _ She heard Neville groan audibly as Seamus Finnigan came into view from behind them. Neville took a large step away from Pansy, though, she noted, he looked particularly reluctant about doing so.

 

“Ah, Neville, thought I’d come rescue you!”

 

“Right, great. Thanks, Seamus,” Neville mumbled. Pansy was amused to see his teeth were gritted. “We’ll finish it another time, then?”

 

Pansy shot him a look which she knew was full of disdain and saw the amused ghost of a smile briefly cross Neville’s mouth. “I can  _ hardly  _ contain myself, Longbottom.” Before she strode away, making sure to bump her shoulder hard against Finnigan as she walked past.

 

_ Stupid. Irish. Pillock! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For fuck's sake Seamus...amirite?


	16. Light & Dark, and Everything in Between

Their session of Occlumency had been, by far, the longest they’d kept at it. Pansy watched, as the images flashed behind her lids.

 

Each memory faded as a new one was pulled forward.

 

_“I swear, child. If you don’t stop that incessant snivelling, I’ll smack you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”_

 

“Fuck! Draco! NO!”

 

Panting, Pansy opened her eyes; she hadn’t the faintest clue as to why she was on her knees. She looked up, blinking; her hands were clamped shut and damp with sweat, her right grasped tightly around her wand atop her thigh. Her hair, which was partly dripping in sweat fell over her face in a big, dark wave, obscuring her vision. The living area of their quarters had been cleared, all furniture had been magically shrunk and stacked on the kitchen counter and Draco was directly opposite Pansy, occupying a space near the door as he lay on the ground in a crumpled heap. Pansy watched as he gingerly got to his feet, wiping his hands on the front of his trousers, his face was grim before it suddenly broke into an uncharacteristically large smile.

 

“That’s the strongest you’ve ever blocked me.”

 

“I don’t understand why you have to keep going to that bloody memory,” Pansy grumbled, as she too raised herself to standing, retrieving a hair tie from a pocket as she did.

 

“I’ve told you, because that’s the memory you want to bury the most. I’m sorry,” he added, his voice genuine, “but it worked. You threw me out of your mind entirely.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

Draco paused, regarding Pansy with his steely eyes. “You know, I never knew she was such an arsehole.”

 

“Well, once I started Hogwarts I was out of her hair enough to mostly avoid being, you know, beaten.”

 

Draco nodded and pulled his t-shirt off, he appeared to be just as sweaty as she was. Pansy, determined to push all memories of her childhood back into the depths of her mind once more, wrinkled her nose slightly as she observed Draco dab his armpits with the damp shirt.

 

“You know,” Draco began, “there was a time you’d have pounced on me for looking like this. Merlin knows what fucking happened, to make you drool like a rabid dog over _Longbottom,_ and you to look at all of _this_ ,” he gestured arrogantly down his naked torso, “with _that_ look on your face. That’s a fucking sin, Pans,” he finished with a quick shake of his head and a sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

Between their classes, Occlumency practices and prefect patrols, somehow their days at Hogwarts had now rolled into weeks. Pansy found herself writing the date at the top of the newest prefect’s schedule and realised, with a slight eyebrow raise of disbelief, that time had somehow surpassed a month and a half, and it was now the middle of October. Pansy hurriedly scribbled the final two names into the schedule, her own along with another. With a sigh, she examined the last line in particular: **Friday, 24th October. Patrol Duty - P. Parkinson (Slytherin) & N. Longbottom (Gryffindor). **

 

Pansy’s Herbology lessons over the past month had consisted of a strange partnership between Pansy and Neville. The week after their near-kiss in the Greenhouse left her feeling more confused than ever. Had it not been for the interruption of Crabbe and Goyle’s horrific torture practice - who had annoyingly appeared later the same day, having somehow avoided the Dementor’s kiss - what would have transpired between them? And then the even nearer kiss in the library, which Pansy was still seething at Finnegan for interrupting, she wanted more than anything to heed Draco’s words; _go be happy,_ but the truth was, the Carrows frightened her, and her parent’s involvement with Voldemort frightened. The fact she still hadn’t heard from Rabastan frightened her, as did the prospect _of_ hearing from him, especially now she knew the incredibly sad truth of Neville’s parents, she just didn’t know if she had the strength to g _o be happy,_ right now. Coupled with the fact that Neville seemed mysteriously busier than usual, and Draco insisting that they practise Occlumency on an almost daily basis, the very concept of happiness felt a lifetime away.

  
The Carrows had informed her and Draco only earlier that day that they were going to keep a much greater eye on the older Gryffindor students, since learning of the secret club most of them had been a member of, two years prior.

 

“Some sort of Army, they called themselves,” Alecto had explained.

 

“Yeah, we, err, helped catch them in fifth-year, actually…” Pansy trailed off, glancing sideways at Draco _,_ which earned her a look of admiration from Alecto. She felt a surge of embarrassment at the memory. Umbridge, _Umbitch_ , as Daphne had coined her _,_ had filled the Slytherin’s heads with a ton of promises for their assistance in catching the Gryffindors in the act: rewards, money, favours from the Ministry - the list had gone on, until one day she’d disappeared into the forest, led by Potter and Granger, and was apparently sexually assaulted by a Centaur heard. They had been informed afterwards that Umbridge had no right to promise any such prizes and they’d done her bidding for nothing. Pansy had vowed that was the last time she would blindly follow anyone, and the humiliation that she’d been a part of the joke that was the _Inquisitorial Squad_ was still raw, two years on.

 

_If anything, it explains why he’s seemed so busy,_ Pansy thought, wondering what Longbottom got up to in his secret club. An odd jealousy she would never admit to coursed through her as she imagined Weaslette and the other Gryffindor girls being a part of the club with him. _But he doesn’t_ look _at them the way he looks at me._ The _way_ he watched her, his piercing blue eyes seemed to all at once soften and yet still drive straight through her. Lingering, yet brief, and soft, yet serious - somehow the way in which Neville Longbottom looked at her was both light and dark, and everything in between.

 

Pansy, herself, now felt an alteration in the presence of Neville. Whereas at the very start of the year she had shied away at every and any look he cast in her direction. Now she found her eyes following him at whatever chance they got, welcoming the chance meetings that their pupils had. She now possessed a well-researched knowledge of his many expressions and mannerisms; the way his long fingers automatically hurriedly pushed his sleeves up at the beginning of every Herbology lesson, the way his fringe now sat upwards to the right, a wave of deep brown above his forehead, the curved indents that appeared in the corner of each eyebrow when he frowned. Whatever the Carrows’ did, how close an eye they kept upon the wizard she so desperately yearned to be hers, they couldn’t take the way she was able to look, _really look,_ at him, unseen by many surrounding eyes. It was the smallest victory Pansy could imagine, yet all she held onto as she went searching for him, her steps as slow as her heart was heavy, having bid Draco farewell after their Occlumency practice, was that he seemed to hold the same victory by the way his own eyes sought her out.

  
She’d caught up to him finally, although much sooner than she would have liked _,_ in a first-floor corridor. Briefly, Pansy stated that the Carrows were going to be watching him more closely than before. If she could have described Neville at that moment, the moment she informed him that she _had_ to keep a distance, she would probably have used the word downtrodden _,_ but, downtrodden was a large understatement for the sheer unhappiness that had befallen the Gryffindor at her words. Harder for Pansy still, Neville had relented at her words without question, with what she knew was an entire understanding of her current situation.

 

In any other circumstances, it may have been almost funny, the chilly demeanour she tried to upkeep. She knew, of course _,_ that Neville saw through her guise completely - which was something of an odd comfort, when the rest of her life felt like an exhausting chaos. It was one thing to have the whole of Hogwarts believing she held Longbottom in the same regard as a flobberworm, which, Pansy was fairly certain 99% of the student body would confirm had they happened to be asked, yet it felt entirely more terrible were Longbottom himself to believe so, especially after the Greenhouse, after the Library...

 

Daphne, who, true to the word she’d given not to say anything, had become something of a Pansy-Neville advocate. She relentlessly questioned Pansy whenever they were together. Daphne was a big believer in a Muggle something she’d heard of, which she called _moon-crossed lovers._ Pansy didn’t know what a moon-crossed lover was, but humoured her best friend’s incessant droning on about the concept. She found herself hoping against hope that Daphne’s constant insistence that she and Neville would find a way to just...be, was an untold prophecy and not a hopeless dream.

 

Draco remained oddly supportive to Pansy’s relinquishing, yet unwanted feelings towards Neville - even in spite of him being present during the conversation with the Carrows. The conversation which had ultimately all but forced Pansy to distance herself from the Gryffindor.

 

Until one day, after even more of their usual nightly fill of firewhisky, Draco had admitted, whilst in the process of falling into yet another whisky-infused slumber _,_ that ever since the night in which he, Pansy, and Neville had drunk whisky and shared a number of stories, he thought “Longbottom wasn’t _that_ bad a bloke”, and Draco felt he could “actually trust him with _his_ Pans.”  
  
Pansy smiled sadly whenever she recalled Draco’s words, and longed for him, if they were to somehow make it through this war, that Draco found the love that Pansy knew he deserved, someone who _Pansy_ could trust with _her_ Draco.

 

* * *

 

 

Entering the Slytherin common room for the third time that week, Pansy immediately spotted one of her most encouraging sights; her friends lounging across a set of two grand, green leather couches, a coffee table centred in the small group.

 

“You took your bloody time! I thought you’d be desperate to spend more time in my presence.”

 

“Hah! Sorry babes, you’re out of luck!” Pansy hastily replied, shooting Theo a look of mock pity.

 

Her imminent arrival at the common room had indeed been made longer, initially by the coming across of a couple of first-year girls, both, Pansy noted, were Hufflepuffs and their tear-stained faces looked nothing short of terrified as they huddled together in a corridor not far from the Entrance Hall.

 

“We can’t, Jessie. The woman one said they check all of our owls home.” Pansy heard one girl say. The other, Jessie, had gulped hard and nodded, saying nothing in response. Pansy watched, Jessie was the only one of the pair that was facing her, and Pansy could see the girl was close to tears again. She’s pretty, Pansy had thought to herself, noting the girl’s soft natural curls, which fell in a frenzy of black ringlets down the sides of her pale face. Her eyes, ringed with red, were a bright green and not too dissimilar from Pansy’s own.

 

“Do you two need me to walk you back to your common room?” Pansy hadn’t known what made her say anything. She was supposed to be keeping up Draco’s stupid pretence, but she knew she couldn’t leave these two frightened eleven-year-olds here unprotected, not when she’d witnessed, at yet another of their ridiculous meetings she and Draco had been summoned to, only the day before, the look in Alecto Carrow’s eyes when she’d openly spoken of the cursing of certain students. The Death Eater had briefly mentioned something about _first-years being easy target practice,_ in such a manner than Pansy had found herself forced into pretending she was experiencing a coughing fit to disguise her body’s desire to dry-heave.

 

“N-no, thank you.” The first girl had spoken, her blue eyes, which bore a striking resemblance to the eyes that were worn on all three of the Greengrass women, were sad and her short, blonde bob needed a good wash.

 

“Okay, look. The Carrows, right now, are probably still in the Great Hall. So, go back to your common room. If they appear, I’ll be able to see and distract them, and you can walk past safely, okay?”

 

Both girls looked positively more terrified and Pansy, not one for offering much in the way of a comforting arm, stood tall and beckoned the girls to start walking. As they turned away, Pansy found her speaking aloud to them once more, “Once you’re back, do any homework you have for tomorrow then go have baths, and try to relax, okay?” Two pairs of eyes, one green and the other blue, stared up at Pansy as they nodded in unison, something Pansy knew countless people had witnessed her and Daphne do over the years. Beckoning to them once more, she watched as they hurriedly tore across the Entrance Hall and disappeared down the corridor Pansy knew led to the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room.   
Pansy watched, just as she had promised, for any sign of either Carrow. “Thank fuck,” she said aloud after no such Death Eater had been spotted, and Pansy felt relatively sure that Jessie and her friend would more than likely be safe in the confines of Hufflepuff House by now. She made to leave herself in the same direction when a voice rang out from behind her. A voice that made her equal parts on edge and completely comforted.

 

“Just when I think you won’t do anything that’ll surprise me more.”

 

Pansy closed her eyes. Her mouth, which had initially gasped, closed and the briefly tightened grip, loosened around her wand. Taking a deep breath, Pansy retorted, “Dangerous time to be sneaking up on people, didn’t you know?” Before she turned around and was propelled, once again, under the scrutinising and perfect stare of Neville Longbottom.

 

Neville snorted. “Trust a Slytherin to say something like _that_ when they receive a compliment.” Which gave Pansy a turn to snort.

 

“If that’s the best compliment you can come up with Longbottom, then-”

 

“Believe me,” he cut her off, “I could think of about a hundred better compliments right now.”

 

Pansy’s breath was somewhere in her throat, caught and with no hope of being relinquished. _Say them,_ she internally pleaded with him, _please, say them all._

 

Somehow, she managed to swallow and briefly scanned their surroundings, which, although mostly empty, still held a handful of students exiting dinner. Pansy, for some unbeknownst-to-herself reason, grabbed the arm of Longbottom’s... _is that a cardigan?_ And dragged him through the closest door to them, which led to an empty storage room. Spare desks and chairs lined three of the walls and five dusty blackboards were lined up against the fourth.

 

“Cosy,” Neville remarked.  

 

Pansy released Neville’s sleeve and turned on her heel, annoyed at his remark, _It's not supposed to be cosy!_ Taking a deep breath, Pansy began, “You...you can’t...You heard what I said about the Carrows! I don’t know what you think you’re…. you just...this _can’t._ ”

 

“Why? I mean, really, why?!” Neville demanded. All his previous sarcasm lost, he looked a certain way Pansy couldn’t place, _angry, maybe?_

 

“BECAUSE WE’LL BE KILLED, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

 

“Killed for what?” Neville asked whilst flicking his wand in what Pansy could only guess was a silencing charm.

 

_Oh, you are fucking relentless._

 

“You know what!”

  
“I need to hear you say it!”

 

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE LONGBOTTOM. YOU! ME! ME! YOU! YOU...I KNOW YOU WANTED...I KNOW YOU WANT...TO… _I WAS THERE,_ _YOU KNOW,_ IN THE GREENHOUSE AND...AND THE LIBRARY!” Pansy’s arms were being thrown about, her hair was wild, and her voice was a shout.

 

Neville’s whole body halted, his breathing came out ragged and uneven, his eyes bored into hers as he stood, unmoving.

 

_Say anything!_

 

Neville let out a relieved-sounding bark of laughter.

 

_Oh yes, this is fucking hysterical._

 

“What the fuck is so funny?”

 

“I just, it’s supposed to be Gryffindors who are the reckless ones; Slytherins are meant to observe a situation first.”

 

“Oh yes, that is funny. See how much I’m laughing now.” Pansy shot him the most loathsome look she could muster; her arms crossed her chest and her face burning with embarrassment.

 

The room was silent for an excruciatingly long minute, all the while Pansy wishing she could transfigure herself into a floor tile and leave him standing there alone, until Neville finally spoke, his voice small, none of his earlier passion remotely visible.

 

“You’re right.” he mustered, shooting her a quick glance before continuing an examination of his own shoes. “Of course, you’re right. In fact, you are _so_ right, I don’t think about much else. And after that day, in the Greenhouse and then later in the library...” Pansy watched as he swallowed and raised his eyes to meet hers once more.

 

Pansy took a deep breath, finding her voice came out not much louder than a whisper, “I _told_ you, we have to stay away from each other. We’d be killed.”

 

“You don’t know that, you can’t possibly know that.”

 

“I do. My...family, they... they’re in too far... if I can’t be, what everybody already thinks I am, I’m as good as dead.”

 

“We’ll work something…”

 

“No!” Pansy stopped him. “You don’t understand, we’ll never be safe to…” She wondered, fleetingly whether she should glamour away the tears that had begun to fall. Figuring there wasn’t much point now, she left them to fall, and fall they did. Until a pair of rough, yet gentle hands swiftly wiped each one away. Breathing had now become an arduous task as Pansy found herself gasping, her tears now falling so thick and fast, she erupted in sobs. And his arms, the only arms Pansy wanted to feel around herself, snaked their way across her sides to rest on her back, as she fell forwards into the waiting chest of Neville Longbottom.

  



	17. Wanting You

“Okay, will you  _ please  _ put me out of my misery?” Draco asked in a bored sounding drawl after handing Pansy a glass of their usual night time firewhisky. The pair were back in their own living quarters now, having stayed later than they had intended in the company of their friends down in the Slytherin common room.

 

“What are you talking about?” Pansy answered, examining the liquid, knowing exactly what the jist of Draco’s next sentence would be, inwardly cursing his ability to read her so well.

 

“Don’t give me that. From the moment you arrived tonight, very late, may I add, you’ve been acting way weirder than usual-”

 

“I do not act weird, Draco Malfoy!”

 

“-one minute you’re trying to hide a stupid, dopey smile and the next you look like you’re worried you’re about to be attacked any second. What the fuck?” he finished haughtily, ignoring her interruption entirely. 

 

Pansy sighed, she’d been fairly certain she’d hidden the smiles that had kept creeping up on her, tugging at the corners of her mouth _ ,  _ fairly well. Not well enough, clearly. The witch continued to stare into her tumbler as the liquor inside swirled with the slight wrist action she had began. Pansy watched the liquid intently, before her mind switched to another scene entirely, a scene that a mere four hours earlier had been an emotional whirlwind, and Pansy wasn’t at all sure if she felt relief, or more confusion.

 

* * *

  
  


_ At first, he did nothing more than hold her. His arms held her in a lock of warmth whilst his chest provided a surface of quiet relief. Somehow, in this shitty world they now existed in, he understood, and he genuinely seemed to care about what happened to her. Pansy could barely even register the words he’d said, but one truth was racing about at the forefront of her mind, between the sheer terror that was the reasoning behind her sobs;  _ he feels the same way about me _. She’d known of course, she knew he felt  _ something _. He hadn’t exactly been subtle in the way he’d almost kissed her, sent her notes, or brushed her hair away from her face in the library, but to have it affirmed, in his own words, to know for sure that maybe, the thing she so badly wanted to fight for, wanted to fight for her, too, was in that moment as though a thousand weights had been somehow lifted. _

 

_ One of Neville’s hands began to move upwards and Pansy felt it stroking her dark hair softly. He didn’t speak until, after what felt like an age, she was able to regain control of her emotions, at least outwardly so.  _

 

_ Swallowing, she took a small step backwards, looking up into Neville’s face as she felt his hand leave her hair, both of her upper arms receiving a small squeeze, before Neville, looking rather reluctant about doing so, lowered his arms to his sides. The comfort she’d overwhelmingly felt whilst his arms were around her, although she still felt deeply grateful for his actions, was rapidly melting into a blunt embarrassment. Finding herself attempting to form a coherent sentence, a task that was made inherently more difficult due to the fact that her brain was nothing more than a dead weight of mush right now, Pansy didn’t have a clue how to properly form her words.  _

 

_ “I..I don’t...I’m sorry…” she trailed off, feeling her face redden with warmth. Looking down, Pansy wasn’t sure how she’d ever meet Neville’s eyes again. _

 

_ “Don’t be sorry.” His voice was soft, and honest, so much so that Pansy took a deep breath and forced her gaze upwards; his brow was furrowed within his intense expression and Pansy fought back the tears that were now threatening to reemerge.  _

 

_ She watched as he swallowed, before he spoke next, “Please, don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.” _

 

_ “Longbottom, you don’t understand-” _

 

_ He cut her off, his tone changing slightly as the seriousness of the subject came forth. “I  _ do  _ understand Pansy. More than you think. I know I’m in danger, I know you’re in danger. I know the Carrows would probably love the chance to torture me a million times more than Alecto already has. I know that,” he gestured to the space between them, as Pansy found her breath was somewhat irregular. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his face as he spoke, “whatever _ this  _ is, is a massive risk, so much of a risk that I hate myself for not staying away from you, like I know I should. But I also know that, from the second I looked at you on the Hogwarts Express, something had changed. You weren’t the same Pansy Parkinson I remembered and I have no idea why. That day, it almost felt like I could forget the whole world. I’ve told you my deepest secret and I want to tell you a hundred more secrets, and hear all of yours. I want...no, I  _ need _ to protect you, but I really, really don’t want to have to stay away from you to do that. I haven’t the faintest idea why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the first day back, or why I can’t stop...” he paused again, and this time he was the one that looked down, avoiding her eyes. He swallowed hard, before closing his eyes for a brief moment, as though psyching himself up to continue, “wanting you.”  _

 

_ Pansy’s thoughts were blank as she attempted, fruitlessly, to properly process his words. He wanted her. He’d flat out told her that he wanted her. Neville Longbottom wanted Pansy Parkinson, and Pansy Parkinson knew she wanted him right back. She dared herself to look at him, her breath, not for the first time that evening, was doing something unbeknownst to her, entirely of its own volition.  _

 

_ She had to say something, she knew that much. Forcing herself to swallow hard, Pansy opened her mouth, breathing hard, before a sharp intake of breath was drawn from both their mouths. A loud voice, accompanied by an even louder voice, was clearly walking down the corridor the room they were currently occupying lay in.  _

 

Carrows. Both. Male and female. Amycus and Alecto. Approaching fast. Shit.

 

_ Pansy felt something grab her arm and swivelling her head around, she realised Neville was gripping her gently. She watched as he brought his right hand up to his face and placed a long index finger vertically over his mouth, signalling that she remain quiet.  _ Really, Longbottom? Because, of course, I’d been planning to start blaring out the National Anthem.

 

_ The voices of Amycus and Alecto rapidly crescendoed as the two Death Eaters came nearer to the door that concealed the hidden pair. It became obvious that they hadn’t paid the room any attention, clearly having walked straight past if the volume and direction of their voices could be believed and both Pansy and Neville let out a long, collective breath.  _ Thank fuck.

 

_ At that moment, Pansy remembered all of a sudden that her friends were awaiting her in the Slytherin common room. “I have to go,” she heard herself blurt out, blushing as she realised the harshness of her tone. “I mean, my friends, they’re waiting for me.”  _

 

_ “Yeah,” Neville awkwardly scratched the back of his head, “mine too, actually. I’ll, err, see you around?” His expression hopeful as his eyes pleaded with her, and Pansy as much as she wanted to keep up her pretense,  _ well, it’s all but completely shattered now, _ couldn’t help a small smile appear on her lips. Draco’s words repeated themselves over in her mind, Go have fun, as she breathed her answer. “Well, we do have a patrol together, on the 24th,” she said quietly, noting the smile that crept onto Neville’s face as she did. _

  
  


Pansy sighed deeply, before meeting Draco’s grey eyes across the living room. “You can probably guess who it involves,” she began, knowing at this point that Draco was the biggest ally she had and one of her best friends; she had no want to lie to him and so she told him most everything. _Well, Draco doesn’t need to know how he said he wanted me._

 

“So, what are you going to do?” Draco probed, his expression and tone were unreadable.

 

“What would you do?”

 

“Well, I think you’re pretty much in deep either way, Pans. Honestly, I’d do what I fucking  _ told _ you to do, you stubborn wench; I’d go have some fucking fun. Fuck the Carrows and all their bullshit. They’re watching the Gryffindors more closely? Who gives a fuck? You and Longbottom are smarter than those two walking sacks of hippogriff shit. Go. Be. Fucking. Happy.” Pausing to down his firewhisky in one, smooth gulp, Draco added, pointing his finger at her, a far more serious tone overcoming his unrevealing expression. “Just don’t get caught.”

 

* * *

  
  


The following week saw the castle darken even more. The autumn feel that had resided in the air was definitely cooling; Pansy even found herself shivering inside the corridors,something she couldn’t remember having experienced before, and wondered, not for the first time _ , _ if the castle’s magic somehow felt a disdainful gloominess at the current way in which it was being managed. 

 

Lessons with the Carrows had intensified. After the disastrous Muggle Studies first class, several more students had now suffered the Cruciatus Curse at the wand of Alecto Carrow. Pansy could scarcely remember hating anyone more. Their Dark Arts classes, led by Amycus, were perhaps slightly less eventful. Amycus had, thus far, not actually cursed any of the students, something which surprised and relieved Pansy, although his job now entailed teaching the entire student body about dark hexes, potions, and artifacts. He, at least, didn’t seem to possess quite the same desire to physically harm the young witches and wizards. 

 

In one such Muggle Studies classes, Alecto had began to read aloud from the  _ My Undertaking  _ book they had been presented with at the start of their first class. From what Pansy had learned from the couple of times she’d flicked through the book it simply contained more, albeit cleverly worded _ , _ in depth propaganda, in a similar vein to the dozens of posters the Carrows had decorated their office and classrooms in. Pansy was grateful that Daphne, Millicent, Blaise and Theo - and if the passing whisperings were to be believed, the majority of the students - had simply not fallen for the brainwashing attempts laid out by the twin Death Eaters. There were exceptions, Pansy and Draco, who of course everyone believed to be loyal followers of Voldemort, were constantly sought out by random students; primarily Slytherins, though surprisingly enough they had now been accosted by a few rogue Ravenclaws who clearly favoured the Dark Lord’s plans. 

 

Draco and Pansy had developed a sure fire strategy to get the majority of these students to leave them alone after one, quick visit. 

 

“Before you can cast any curse with any degree of surety,” Draco was explaining to a skinny, rat-looking boy. He looked no other than fourteen and he had somehow embroidered a Dark Mark patch onto his green and silver tie; Pansy had looked at it, trying to keep the horror from her face. 

 

Swallowing, the witch turned her attention to Draco, who was continuing, “You need to be able to take them first, so what will it be? Cruciatus? Bit steep for your first...Hmmm... I do a pretty mean stinging hex?” The boy’s eyes widened as he mentally weighed up his options, mumbling something Pansy couldn’t quite make out, yet sounded coincidently similar to  _ perhaps next time _ .

 

Draco and Pansy watched the boy hurriedly walk away from the Head Boy and Girl. Pansy gave her head a small shake, turning back to Draco. “They really want to sign up, don’t they? Fucking hell, I told you about that second year last week, didn’t I? Started talking about taking the Mark and everything.”

 

Draco scoffed. “I’m fairly certain if I’d been given it at twelve years old, I’d be dead.” Pansy watched as he absent-mindedly rubbed his left forearm as he spoke. Pansy had now seen Draco’s Dark Mark a number of times. It no longer phased her in the way it once did, but the thought of a child as young as twelve actively thinking that they wanted to obtain the tattoo, so strongly laced with Dark Magic, made her blood run cold. 

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Draco breathed, his expression darkening. Pansy followed his gaze with her own and let out an audible groan just loud enough for her friend to hear. Crabbe and Goyle were approaching; both big, both surly, and both wearing the exact same dumb expression they were famed for. Luckily, the pair failed to notice them. Pansy had informed Draco of the scene her and Neville had witnessed at the lake, and Draco, just like Pansy, no longer held any desire to exchange niceties with his once-friends.

 

In a strange and disturbing turn of irony, if there were any two students that were actually excelling in the pantomime that was the lessons the Carrows’ taught, it would be the two of them. Neither Crabbe or Goyle had performed well in any class they’d taken at Hogwarts thus far. It was a mystery how any of them managed to pass the end of year exams every June and yet, for the first time in any of their education, they were participating in class debates, taking a multitude of notes, and begging for the chance to earn a better grade by doing extra work, only, unluckily for them, neither Carrow had been particularly interested in essay writing, or other academic assignments. Pansy and Draco had figured this was probably due to their laziness in regards to the abundance of marking they would have to do, and yet, for some inexplicable reason Crabbe and Goyle had worked tirelessly writing essays they set themselves, which included tiles such as;  _ A Hundred Reasons Pure Blood is the Only Blood,  _ and,  _ How to Properly Brew a Rudimentary Body Potion.  _ The two had now almost entirely distanced themselves from the other seventh-year Slytherins, not that any of the rest were complaining about this. 

 

Daphne and Blaise continued to spend the majority of their time together, Pansy was incredibly pleased for her best friend and listened earnestly as Daphne explained how she and Millicent had moved Blaise and Theo into their dormitory, and Crabbe and Goyle had remained alone in the boy’s dorm, an arrangement which seemed to suit all parties. Theo and Millicent, it transpired, were tiptoeing around the fact that, according to Daphne,  _ they clearly want to bone.  _

 

“I think Millie’s feeling a bit...conflicted,” Daphne had stated one afternoon. “Her parents have openly supported You-Know-Who, and it’s not like it is for you, because she actually likes her parents.” 

 

“Pans,” Draco turned as he spoke, breaking Pansy’s concentration from her contemplations, to face the raven haired witch after a quick, expert glance of his surroundings. “I think we need to start working on something, we’re not going to be able to put off  _ Crucio-ing _ for much longer.”

 

“Is this what you mentioned before? Something about nonverbal?” 

 

Draco nodded, his face poised, clearly deep in thought. “Not here,” he beckoned, nodding in the direction behind them, along a first floor corridor. “Library, I think I know what book we’ll need.”

 

* * *

  
  


_ Severus Snape addressed the sixth year class as Pansy shot her boyfriend a sideways glance as their professor spoke. “What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?”  _

 

Well that’s obvious, so the person you’re doing the spell on doesn’t know what you’re going to do, _ Pansy thought to herself. Her left arm twitched as she made to raise it in the air to answer the question, until- _

 

_ "Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you are about to perform, which gives you a split-second advantage." _

 

Of course. _ Pansy rolled her eyes. At least this Professor was never impressed with Granger’s incessant need to answer every single question presented to every single class she was in.  _

 

_ The lesson itself had been one of their year’s most humorous, for no reason other than the expressions her classmates wore as they attempted to disarm their opponent. Pansy looked across at Daphne, willing her wand to carry out her desired spell.  _

 

Come on! Expelliarmus! EXPELLIARMUS!

 

_ Daphne’s wand left her hand with a surprised yelp from the blonde. It hadn’t gone far, but Pansy had done it, she’d done what she was sure no one else in the class had managed. The dark haired sixth year looked around, a smile upon her face at her achievement, hoping to seek out Professor Snape, until...  _

 

_ “Hermione did it!”  _

 

_ “Nice one, Hermione!” _

 

_ “Of course you’d do it first Hermione, that was amazing!” _

 

_ The ring of the school bell rang through a bitter Pansy as she stomped to her bag and began to pack up her notes, an encouraging Daphne following behind. “You should tell Professor Snape,” Daphne began, “you did it before Granger.” _

 

_ “It’s fine, like anyone would believe that anyway.” _

 

_ “But it’s the truth!” _

 

_ “I know,” Pansy answered, dismayed. It had been nice to feel like she had managed something before her peers for once.  _

 

Fucking Granger.

 

* * *

  
  


Pansy watched as Draco retrieved several books from the library shelves. “These should do,” he grunted. Pansy suppressed a small laugh as she watched him struggle under the weight of the heavy tomes. 

 

“Here,” Pansy offered, quickly levitating the pile. “Why the hell do we need so many?”

 

“Because I’m not sure how this is going to work.”

 

“And what exactly is  _ this _ ? _ ”  _

 

Draco quickly scanned the vicinity. They were in the Restricted Section which was deserted at the best of times, but Draco clearly wanted to take no chance of being overheard. He bent low, his mouth level with Pansy’s right ear before whispering, “We’re going to perfect nonverbally being able to make someone scream their fucking head off.”

 

“We’re...what?” It took a long second before realisation washed over her. “They’ll think we can  _ Crucio  _ nonverbal!”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Draco, that’s brilliant,” Pansy said, truthfully. 

  
“Brilliant happens to be my speciality, didn’t you know?” 

 

Vacating the library and returning to their rooms, both Pansy and Draco expressed small, smug smiles as they sat in their usual spaces before summoning Winky for some refreshments, and set to work putting their newest plan into motion.

 


	18. Something...Real

"Well, well, well. Someone is  _ very  _ dressed up for a simple patrol.”

 

“Get out of my room,” Pansy snapped at the smug reflection currently standing in her door frame. 

 

“She  _ needs  _ to be dressed up!” an excited voice piped up from atop Pansy’s bed. Daphne was presently lounging against two propped-up pillows, her hand outstretched resting on a third, where Winky was currently painting the blonde’s fingernails.

 

“Daphne, shut up,” Pansy retorted, this time directing her scowl towards the reflection of the beautiful blonde. 

 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Draco began, choosing to ignore Pansy completely. His attention entirely directed towards Daphne, he strode over to the bed and plonked himself down next to the witch. Leaning backwards, Draco propped himself up on his elbows. “Let's face it, Longbottom is probably just grateful someone has shown him any interest. She could probably show up wearing a burlap sack and he’d still want to fuck her.” 

 

_ You’re such a mean arsehole. _

 

“Well yes, I know that, but it’s more the confidence boost for her, you know?” 

 

_ I am here! _

 

Pansy sighed, an exaggerated eye roll crossing her face as she went back to putting on her make up. Inwardly, she could scarcely deny to herself that she had a sense of excitement, even though she had no way to know how Neville himself was viewing their nightly duties that evening, but Pansy couldn’t help but feel as though she was heading out on some kind of, dare she even think the word...date. This was absurd, of course. The threat the Carrows’ posed was as great as ever, yet Pansy knew now that there wasn’t much use in denying the way the two felt about each other. Considering she seemed unable to stop her emotions getting the better of her, having now  exploded at the Gryffindor twice; once, ending with her sobbing into his chest, and almost kissing him twice. The majority of the student body kept her at a definite distance, far more so than ever before, and the Carrows’ themselves even seemed to hold her in a strange sort of respectful demeanour. It turned out that Neville was, at present, the only person Pansy was unable to keep her mask in place for. The fear of what would happen if they were to be found out still gripped at Pansy, escalating her anxiety through the roof at the thought, and so she opted, whenever she could, to simply not think of it...or so she tried, anyway. 

 

Draco was primarily interested in draining as much firewhisky as he could get his pale hands on. Occlumency practise after Occlumency practise, and perfecting the nonverbal screaming spell they’d ended up having to basically  _ invent  _ themselves kept her quite busy. Daphne was still Pansy’s best friend, but between separate lessons, Pansy’s Head Girl duties, and Draco’s methodically planned extra work, they didn’t seem to see each other often. Not to mention the fact the majority of Daphne’s time was spent in the company of Blaise Zabini, and Pansy couldn’t blame her for that, and in fact could hardly blame  _ herself _ for wishing to spend some alone time with the one person who was actually responsible for a high percentage of the small amount of smiles that had escaped her recently. 

 

The Herbology lesson that had followed their impromptu liaison in the storage room, and subsequently all Herbology lessons since, had made Pansy feel a very prominent  _ something _ in the pit of her stomach. This was only amplified by the fleeting moments that Neville sneakily brushed his hand against Pansy’s arm purposefully when he passed her, and the way he intently, yet briefly, stared deep into her eyes, when all other eyes in the greenhouse were focussed elsewhere. 

In the other classes they shared, Neville acted no different towards her than he had any other year, with a stark indifference. Neither acted as though the other existed and slowly, over time, Herbology became a sort of haven for the two of them, where the small ghosts of smiles were welcomed and their shared looks weren’t full of a false disregard. 

 

“Pans, do your undies match?” Daphne asked, as nonchalantly as though she was enquiring about the weather, forcing Pansy’s thought back to the present. Turning to face to bed, Pansy found herself first watching Draco, who had exploded in a fit of laughter at Daphne’s question. 

 

“Daphne!” Pansy cried, half in amusement, half in shock. She picked up a small purse and threw it at the blonde’s head, eliciting a squeal from Daphne as she dodged its’ path. 

 

“What?!”

 

“I’ve missed you, blondie,” Draco told her between laughs. He lied down completely, further back into the bed, his hands meeting beneath his blonde head. “This year is utter shit,” he stated, simply.

 

“Agreed. And I’ve missed you too, Draco Malfoy!” She laughed before the three friends settled into a comfortable five minute, reminiscent silence.

 

“Where’s Millie?” Pansy heard Draco ask.

 

“Oh, she and Theo had to,” she raised her hands to the side of her head and air quoted the next word, “study.”

 

“That’s what all the kids are calling it these days, or so I hear,” Draco snorted. 

 

“I know, it’s quite cute though, they were holding hands yesterday. But, seriously Pans, do your undies match?” 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Pansy emerged from the Head Dorm a short while later. Daphne had vacated not long before, and Pansy had spent the remaining time with Draco. He had offered nothing but a few shots of whisky to help with Pansy’s slight nerves, which she was relieved to realise were minimal in comparison to her mounting excitement. 

 

She clip-clopped down the corridor; her heels were high and her skirt was short, though not _too short_ ; Daphne having pointed out that _too short_ might scare Longbottom more than anything else.  

 

The castle was primarily deserted, most students no longer opting to stay out any later than dinner anymore. Pansy met not a single soul as she moved quickly through the familiar halls. She spotted the top of the Grand Staircase upon turning a first floor corner, and felt her stomach clench as she approached the steps and the Entrance Hall. They were always the unofficial meeting point for whatever two Prefects were on patrol duty together and as she was finally able to look down the stairs, an awaiting Neville Longbottom appeared in her line of sight. Pansy hoped she didn’t imagine the sharp intake of breath she was sure she saw him take as she descended the staircase. 

  
He was wearing a fitted, deep gray long sleeved top and well fitting slim jeans and she unashamedly looked him up and down, which earned her an eyeroll and the same treatment back, finding herself rather enjoying the way his eyes lingered on her bare legs.

  
“What did I guess correctly that you liked; the day we went to the greenhouse?” he asked, oddly.

 

“What?” Pansy answered, wholly taken aback. “Autumn days, but...what the hell?”

 

“Just had to check,” Neville laughed at her confusion. “You look like a dream. I had to check it was really you. Dark times, you know.”

 

Pansy shot him a sideways smile. “I also called you a creep then, you remember?”

 

“I do, but then you also admitted you have no problem with my creeping.”

 

“You’re getting far too cocky, Longbottom.”

 

“Where to, Head Girl?” he asked, ignoring her previous statement and perfectly raising one eyebrow.   
  
_ My bed.  _ “We can start with this floor. Once we’re back here, we’ll do the dungeons. Then go up the West stairs and do each floor from there.”  _ Also my bed. _

  
Neville nodded slowly, “Lead the way.”

 

“You’re just saying that so you can check out my arse.” A firewhisky-induced confidence was seeping over her as she began to sashay towards a nearby corridor. She heard Neville chuckle darkly behind her, though he made no effort to deny her statement.   
  
The ground floor proved entirely empty. Most students were generally too fearful to wander around after dark now, after the first few instances of the Carrows catching those students out of bed resulted in a bout of the Cruciatus Curse. Prefect patrols were generally incredibly easy, and this suited Pansy and Neville fine, because it truly meant that for the first time since the library, they could actually talk. 

 

“...seriously, it’s faded a bit now, but it’s actually bright fucking green.” Pansy snorted, narrowing her eyes at a laughing Neville, who was insistent that Pansy un-glamour her black hair. “You’ll have to get me drunk. That’s how Daphne persuaded me to let her do it in the first place, though she didn’t tell me she was doing it green, mind.”

 

“Amazing, I can’t believe I’m even thinking this, but Slytherins actually sound fun.”

 

“Come to the dark side Longbottom,” Pansy said, lowering her voice considerably, before adding, “we have whisky.” She elongated the  _ s _ in whisky into a hiss. 

 

“I think I’m already halfway there.”

 

“Lucky you,” Pansy brightly winked at her companion. 

 

“I’m definitely not complaining,” Neville answered, and Pansy felt her cheeks warm slightly as she tried, and failed, to suppress an embarrassingly wide smile at his words.

 

“Tell me more,” Neville said, as they approached the entrance to the dungeons.

 

Pansy deliberated. “What do you want to know?”

 

“Anything, everything.”

  
“Well that narrows it down,” Pansy snorted.

 

“Something...real.” He was no longer laughing.

 

“Okay, look you were really honest with me, and I feel I sort of owe you that back, if that makes sense?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“My childhood, it...wasn’t great.” Pansy took a deep breath as they began to navigate the corridors that lead to the Slytherin common room. Strangely enough even these were deserted. “My mum, she, sort of...hated me, still does.”

 

“Hated you?” 

 

Pansy shot him a glance, seeing the concern on his face illuminated in the dungeon torchlight. They made their way to the end of the corridor, nearing the West staircase, before Pansy began to speak again. “I’m pretty sure, yeah. If not she has a fucked up way of showing love. She...got angry...a lot. My dad wasn’t around very much and so when she was pissed off, there was no one else for her to take it out on, I guess.”

 

Pansy heard Neville swallow as he processed her words. She no longer felt the effects of the firewhisky as a familiar sadness washed over her, a sadness she was usually capable of burying without much effort. It had proved more difficult recently, however...

 

_ Stupid Draco, and his stupid Occlumency. _

 

“Pansy, I shouldn’t have asked. The last thing I wanted was for you to get upset. I’ve been...looking forward to this all day,” he confessed.

 

They paused before beginning the climb up the West staircase, and Pansy turned to face him. “You don’t have to be sorry, I chose to bring that up. I...I actually wanted to tell you, ever since you...ever since the library. I wanted you to know that I understand a...a little, about having a shit childhood at least.”

 

Her face burned with a mixture of emotions Pansy didn’t want to face. 

 

Neville nodded. “I really appreciate you telling me,” he said and she felt his hand on her arm, giving it an encouraging squeeze as he looked into her eyes. His hand left her arm and he opened them, widespread, before mumbling, “Come here.” 

 

And she did.

 

“I don’t know what you do to me, Longbottom,” Pansy said, her voice muffled against Neville’s chest. “I’m a massive bitch remember, I don’t  _ do  _ hugs,” she said, relishing once more in the safety she felt contained within his arms. 

 

“Even massive bitches need hugs, Pansy,” his voice was full of mock seriousness. 

 

“You’re hilarious.”

 

“I try. C’mon, let’s go upstairs, I hate the dungeons,” Neville said, and Pansy reluctantly stepped away from his hold of her.

 

“Aww, but I feel so at home down here,” Pansy moaned as she alighted the stairs after him.

 

“I know, but at least you get to check out my arse this time, Parkinson.”

 

“Well look at that, so I do,” Pansy responded, not quite brave enough to admit, despite their flirty comradery, that she had, in fact, been checking out his arse from the moment he turned around.

 

* * *

  
  


The remainder of their patrol passed in a similar fashion, full of shared fears and stories, anecdotes and dreams. Pansy could scarcely remember a time she’d shared so much at once with anyone. 

 

“...in hiding, I think. Nobody really knows anything,” Neville was relaying. The pair were sitting in a small alcove, tucked away on the fifth floor, having decided to simply not bother with the rest of their duties. Neither particularly cared if anyone was out of bed. It seemed incredibly unlikely considering the deserted state of the parts of the castle they’d already walked through. 

 

“I wish I could go into hiding,” Pansy confessed, surprising even herself at her words, yet knowing they were the truth. She wondered fleetingly whether she should add,  _ ‘...with you.’  _

__

Neville nodded. “It would certainly beat getting crucio’d every damn week.”

 

Pansy swallowed. “I’m sorry you have to go through that, it must be hard…” she trailed off, knowing he wouldn’t need her to spell her true sentiments out to him. 

 

He paused, before looking around to meet her eyes. “It’s not easy,” he admitted. “Knowing it’s the last thing they felt, before…” Pansy nodded slightly at his words, her eyes filling with tears at his confession. 

 

“It is a little bit more bearable...knowing that you put shields up for me.”

 

“It’s not much, I know,” Pansy said with a sigh. She deliberated with herself every week, after she learnt the truth of his personal history with the curse that was being inflicted upon him week in, week out. Much like the first Muggle Studies lesson, Pansy had found herself unable to do nothing and so had taken to casting weak, nonverbal shield charms around Neville. She couldn’t allow a full shield, as this would repel the curse, but she knew it made it slightly easier for him to take the torture. “Any more and she’d know, I just wish I could-”

 

“Pansy, are you serious? The fact that you’re willing to put so much on the line, to help me just that little bit, to make it a little better. You don’t know what that means, I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

 

She smiled up at him. His face, which she had began to see as rather physically appealing from the minute he entered the carriage on the train, now had a whole new effect on her. She still marvelled at how good looking he had become, of course, but now there was more; a perfected rigidity to his jaw, and a deep sorrow in his eyes that she was certain, or perhaps she merely hoped that, nobody else could see. There was real pain and sadness in Neville Longbottom and knowing, and seeing that, broke Pansy’s heart almost every day. And yet, despite the hurt, she knew there was also hope, and light. She saw it in Herbology, in the ambition present in his eyes when Professor Sprout engaged him, and when Professor Flitwick commended his impressive spellwork. His Gryffindor fire was sometimes so close to the surface, she half expected his eyes to burn a deep red. 

  
Their peers no longer regarded him in the way they once did, with mockery and pity. His abilities as a wizard had increased tenfold and his blatant defiance in the face of the Carrows’ proved he was no longer one to be trifled with. In fact, Pansy highly doubted whether Neville Longbottom would ever give anyone reason to truly make fun of him again. 

 

Pansy smiled at his words, but said nothing. Instead, she let her head fall to the side, feeling comfortable enough, yet still nervous at first, to rest her head on his shoulder. She felt him altogether stiffen at her advance before his whole body relaxed entirely, and she felt his head flop to the side, to rest atop hers. She felt his hand reach to hers, grasping it in his own as their fingers interlaced.  _ Well, staying away from him has gone just swimmingly.  _

 

And there they sat, in the most comfortable silence they had shared yet. For an amount of unknown time that felt long, and over too soon all at once, Pansy felt Neville’s head leave its position against hers, only to feel his lips press into her forehead. It was brief, chaste and not nearly enough. The pang she felt as he pulled away tugged a part of her deep inside that Neville had awoken, and thankfully, it seemed he had no intention of leaving it at the one quick kiss. 

 

He planted an identical, fleeting brush of his lips further down her forehead, and this time Neville barely pulled away before planting a third kiss on her cheek. He simultaneously swiveled his body so he was facing her, giving him easier access to kiss her a fourth time; this time his mouth meeting the line of her jaw, to which Pansy, who was wondering if it was possible for her to actually explode with anticipation and want, and happiness. She heard herself emit the smallest of groans somewhere deep in her throat and gently threw her head backwards, which was met almost instantaneously by a strong hand that began to run its fingers through her long, black locks, massaging the back of her head. His mouth continued his trail of kisses along her jaw, at last softly grazing the very side of her mouth until she felt his hand tighten slightly on the back of her head. His grip guided her head smoothly so that her mouth finally, after weeks of wanting it, _needing_ it, and unsuccessfully attempting to ignore it, and finally, she succumbed, pulling her body round so her torso met his. She threw her arms around his neck as she mimicked the movements that his hand had been doing through her hair, through his own as she bristled with desire. His other arm had wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him, his grip so tight she wondered if he thought she was going to pull away. _Not a chance._

 

The kiss itself was easily the most passionate contact Pansy had experienced. Neville had started slowly, pressing his lips against hers gently, the light sensations tantalising and teasing until she insisted on more; more heat, more movement, which Neville was all too happy to oblige. His tongue eagerly met hers as she pulled his head as close to hers as she could, as he did the same to hers.

  
It was all at once intense, terrifying, romantic, and erotic. It was everything Pansy had hoped it could be, and a hundred times more of everything. Neville had lit a fire in Pansy she hadn’t known existed and she craved to burn with him. All that she knew in that moment was that despite everything that  _ should  _ keep them apart, they were a perfect match,  _ perfect  _ somehow.

 

It may have been one minute, or fifty. Pansy had no knowledge of time passing. What she did know, when they finally broke apart, gasping for air, that it was not nearly enough. Thankfully, Neville seemed to have the exact same idea, pausing a second solely to stare into her eyes, where he seemed to tell her a thousand, unspoken truths. He linked his fingers with hers once more, and stood up, pulling her with him. Pansy swallowed, biting her bottom lip as she waited, still panting and desperate for more. 

 

In one swift movement he pulled her into him, catching her face with his free hand and ran the pad of his thumb down her cheek. Planting one, agonisingly brief kiss on her lips before Pansy squealed in surprise upon feeling her back meet roughly with the cold stone of a nearby wall. Her face broke into a mischievous smile as she tugged on his hand. He left no time in following her unsaid command. Pansy sighed, as her arms found their way around his neck once more. Her hands resting through his short hair as his own hands pressed on either side of her face as his lips finally met hers once more.


	19. Trust a Gryffindor...

Pansy had felt a fair few regrets in her lifetime, but as she entered the head quarters later that evening, she was fairly certain, that the ending of the kisses she’d shared with Neville, despite the fact they’d done so for almost  _ two hours,  _ was high up on the list. 

 

As the door closed behind her, she let out a sigh; full of equal parts yearning and fulfillment. She felt the side of her body thump against the nearby wall, and realised that she’d unintentionally flopped herself against it, as her brain attempted to recall every detail of the patrol she’d just finished. 

 

_ Best. Patrol. Ever.  _ Her head was still spinning from the realisation, Longbottom had kissed her.  _ Really  _ kissed her.  _ No,  _ pansy thought, even that wasn't apt enough a description. He'd set her on  _ fire _ .  _ Trust a Gryffindor to do that.  _

 

They’d stayed, pressed into the wall and each other, melded together in such a perfect partnership that Pansy could barely remember  _ anything  _ feeling more right; which was a slight oddity in itself, when everything considered, Neville was really, in fact, entirely  _ wrong  _ for her. 

 

The clearing of a throat forced Pansy back into the present, wrenching her mind unceremoniously from the memory of the way Neville had kissed her.

 

“I thought you would have gone to bed,” Pansy said aloud, wondering whether to call Winky for some food, or simply collapse onto her own cosy bed, and engulf herself with every tiny triviality of the last few hours. Her body made the decision for her really, emitting a low growl of hunger, and Pansy realised she hadn’t actually eaten any dinner, opting instead to begin getting ready for the patrol.  _ Clearly that was the right decision,  _ Pansy smirked to herself, walking towards the sofa as she deliberated what she would like the elf to fetch her to eat. Slumping herself down onto the sofa, she turned her head to face the familiar pale face of Draco, who merely shrugged in response to her earlier spoken thought.

 

“Do you want some food?” Pansy asked, making herself really  _ look  _ at Draco for the first time in a few days. He had been getting visibly thinner since they arrived back at school, that much was obvious, but Pansy realised she’d been so caught up in the complicated emotional, risky web that was she and Longbottom, she had failed to really notice Draco’s appearance. Which, she was fairly certain that during the day was less obvious, but here, where their only light was wall-mounted candles that graced the edges of all their rooms, Draco no longer looked skinny. She watched the shadows of the flames dance their way across the wizard’s face, and realised that Draco looked ill, gaunt, and borderline malnourished. 

 

He began to shake his head, raising his trademark whisky tumbler as he did. The action jolted Pansy’s attention from the face of her friend, one of the people she cared most about in the world, and felt a strong surge of anger towards him. She didn’t bother asking how much he’d drank tonight, knowing he’d just follow her question with another shrug. Instead, Pansy took matters into her own hands. If the evening she’d just had were to teach her anything was that Draco was, in fact, right. Pansy knew now that the happiness she  _ could _ have, despite the odds against them all, was worth fighting for. And she also knew that it wasn’t solely Neville that she needed to be responsible for her happiness. It was Daphne, Blaise, Millicent and Theo, and her rock - the one she trusted more than anyone in the world and the one who knew her inside out,  _ that  _ one was an integral part to any happiness she may be lucky enough to get. And  _ that one  _ was no use to her as a permanently drunk skeleton. 

 

Pansy thought a very clear and precise,  _ Accio glass,  _ and failed to keep the smirk from her face as the tumbler flew from a surprised Draco’s grasp as forcefully as if Pansy had spoken the spell out loud. Her nonverbal skills were becoming stronger and stronger, something Pansy was immensely proud of. 

 

“What the-? Give tha’ back!” 

 

“No,” Pansy said simply, before standing and striding defiantly towards the doorway that led to the rest of their quarters, hearing Draco mumble something to himself, grumpily. She reached the kitchen area and retrieved a mug from one of the cupboards, choosing the least old and chipped looking amongst the pitiful collection.

 

Calling for Winky, Pansy magically filled the mug with water, before making her way back to Draco, thrusting the mug into the hand she’d taken his glass from, still outstretched as though expecting her to gift him the alcohol back.  _ No such luck. _

 

“What the fuck is this?” Draco began, his words barely separate with his usual slur, but did not say anything further as Winky took that moment to appear, her large eyes blinking up to Pansy, then over at Draco’s annoyed scowl.

 

“Ah, Winky would you sort us a hot meal please? I know it’s late…” Pansy trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty she hadn’t considered the late hour before calling the small elf to her service.

 

Winky however, had looked remarkably cheery at Pansy’s request. “Of course, Miss,” she squeaked, dropping her head into a slight bow, before disappearing Pansy was sure she heard the elf say, “Miss has worked up quite an appetite, obviously,” before disappearing as quickly as she had arrived. 

 

“I don’ want a hot meal, Pans.”

 

“Tough.”

 

“Wha’ do you mean,  _ tough _ ?” He was clearly abashed, even in his drunken state.

 

“I mean exactly that, you’re  _ going  _ to eat a decent dinner Draco, before you disappear.”

 

Draco scoffed, but thankfully didn’t argue, which would have been altogether difficult considering his stomach had began to rumble the minute Winky had vanished. 

 

“Drink your water,” Pansy demanded, trying, and most likely failing, to sound kinder than she felt, which was primarily anger at Draco for not looking after himself, and also at herself, for not realising he needed her to do it for him sooner. 

 

He glared at her, but obliged, downing the liquid in one. He glanced at her, before saying, “Oh, an owl came with a letter for you, it’s over there.” He pointed in the direction of the large desk which stood against the opposite wall from the couch. 

 

Pansy paused before summoning the parchment, her breathing suddenly ragged as it flew into her waiting hand. She heard Draco say from her side something along the lines of  _ everything being okay _ , but Pansy knew it wasn’t. There was only one person she was expecting mail from. The same person who she’d found out, only a few weeks ago, had been directly involved in the torture and eventual permanent hospitalisation of the parents of the boy she’d spent all night with, who had laughed with, shared her secrets with, and who had kissed her with his everything. 

 

_ End of Part One... _


	20. Part Two | Pain & Fire - Twenty. I'm Here

_ Eight weeks, one day, and seventeen hours.  _

_ Eight weeks, one day, and seventeen hours. _

_ Eight weeks, one day, and seventeen hours. _

 

It wasn’t exactly imminent, per se, she internally deliberated, but it was far, far sooner than she would have liked; eight weeks, one day, and seventeen hours too soon, to be exact. 

 

_ No!  _ “No!” Pansy cried, aloud this time to no one in particular. Her eyes drifted over the untidy scribble of words strewn across the parchment she was holding. The shaking of her hands, coupled with the pools of tears that had collected in the direct window of her sight had made reading significantly trickier. Not that it mattered, the note’s image was now etched, possibly forever, within her brain,. Her eyes closed and her tears fell, burning into her mind’s eye.

 

_ Pansy, _

_ I checked with Sev, he says your Christmas holiday starts December the 19th. We are busy around that time but I have some free time on the afternoon of the 21st - around 4. It would please me to see you then - I will have the whole night free.  _

_ Rab _

 

Pansy shuddered and flinched when a pair of strong hands gripped her upper arms. Her mind immediately drifted to the face of Rabastan Lestrange at the touch, and she saw, with a gasp, the cold, dark eyes that he used to leer at her so brazenly. 

 

In an instant, she needed to free herself from his tightening grasp, and his cries of  _ Pansy, Pansy, Pansy.  _ She hated the way he spoke her name, and more so now, knowing it was the same voice used to torture all those years ago, the same voice that continued to torture, to kill, to do Voldemort’s bidding now. And so she fought, and she struggled, clawing at every inch of him she could reach, until finally she was able to sink her teeth into what she could only presume was a shoulder. He let her go with a howl, and a sharp  _ What the absolute fuck, Pansy!? _ that was so decidedly un-Rabastan-like, that Pansy stopped, a swift moment of realisation washing over her; it  _ was  _ un-Rabastan-like, because Rabastan wasn’t there. The one who  _ was  _ there, however...  _ Oh, no! _

 

Her eyes snapped open and a strange, somewhat distorted view met her eyes. It took a moment for Pansy to acknowledge that that her living room hadn’t suddenly tipped sideways, and that she had, at some point unbeknownst to her, fallen over. Draco, it seemed, had gone down with, or maybe _because of,_ her.. 

 

He was sitting slightly across from her current position, cradling his right arm in his left, and a look plastered across his pale face that made Pansy gulp. 

 

“You fucking bit me!”

 

Pansy didn’t respond immediately, instead remaining entirely still as she blinked at Draco’s furious expression. She  _ had  _ bitten him,  _ why on earth had she bitten him? _ She had very little answer or defense of it; the grey eyes that were growing narrower by the second, however, were demanding she give them just that. Pansy swallowed as her gaze dropped to the floor. 

 

“I thought you were him,” she said, her voice small.

 

“Lestrange?” Draco answered, clearly stunned, but his voice was already softer, calmer than it was a moment ago.

 

Pansy nodded sheepishly, her cheeks flooding with the warmth of her embarrassment. She examined the carpet, unwilling to look at him, and began wringing her hands together; a childhood habit that had followed and found her in all the moments she felt most embarrassed or stung. 

 

Draco didn’t speak, and remained in his position on the floor. It was only when Pansy finally found it within herself to look up at him, did he move. The wizard crawled awkwardly to her, not breaking their collective stare until he was near enough to touch her. Shifting positions so he was on his feet at a crouch, Draco opened his arms wide, a small, comforting twitch pulling at the left corner of his mouth. 

 

“Come here.”

 

His embrace was, as always, firm yet soft, and in many ways felt like home. He guided them upright as he held her, murmuring soft affirmations in her ear. “You’re safe,” she heard him whisper. “I’m here, it’s just me, it’s just Draco.”

 

“I’m sorry I bit you,” Pansy muttered, her voice obscured as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill once more. A clink of crockery drew both of their attentions.

 

“Miss Pansy! It is most definitely not appropriate to bite Master Draco, especially after spending the evening with your mate,” Winky stated, her voice firm, yet matter-of-fact, as though scolding humans for biting one another was an everyday occurrence for a House Elf. 

 

“Oh, Merlin. No, Winky, not like that, don’t worry,” Pansy mumbled, breaking she and Draco’s hug and moving towards the couch, eyes focussed entirely on the tray of food Winky was carrying and refusing to look at the elf.

 

Setting a tray of a variety of dishes on the coffee table, Winky it appeared, had not finished accosting Pansy. “Lovely boy, that one, Miss Pansy. You will want to keep that one, he treats House Elves very well. Dobby agrees, you see, Miss Pansy. Dobby tells me all about the boy, and I know that he _certainly,_ ” her large eyes now swivelling towards Draco, “would never pick us up by our ears.”

 

“That was one time, Winky!”

 

* * *

 

  
  


Neither spoke in the time it took them to eat the multitude of dishes that Winky had brought. Realistically, there would have been enough to feed around four grown adults, however, due to the ravishing hunger both Pansy and Draco had felt, the plates were cleared in their entirety. 

 

Pansy sat back, her head coming to rest against the soft cushion of the sofa. Her limbs were tingling with the tiredness that was suddenly filling her body, only increasing as the large, warm meal settled in her stomach. Looking over at Draco, she realised he had been watching her silently, with an unreadable nonchalant expression, his steely eyes looking calm as they regarded her. 

 

“You okay?” he asked, when she hadn’t spoke.

 

“I really don’t know,” Pansy replied, with as much honesty as her heart allowed her to muster. 

 

Draco nodded in response, but didn’t speak right away. He continued to watch her quietly, although Pansy would have bet a lot of gold that beneath the surface of his silvery blond head, his thoughts were racing, and busy, saying a thousand things he wasn’t prepared to say out loud. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” Pansy asked, finally, unable to bear the silence any longer.

 

Draco did not immediately respond, choosing to remain in the exasperating silence for a few minutes longer, before sighing. Pansy noticed his brow taking on its characteristic furrow, something that despite its often association with bad news, was so unbelievably  _ Draco-esque _ , that the rush of familiarity she felt upon seeing it was a strange sort of comfort. 

 

“I need you to know, Pans, that whatever it takes, I’ll do my best to keep you safe... get you out of this,  _ here,  _ if I need to,” he said, his voice rushed but remained steady.

 

“ _ Out  _ of here? I can’t get  _ out of here, _ where would I go? And I couldn’t leave you here, dealing with it all on your own,” Pansy answered. A wave of panic had washed over her at his words, how,  _ or where,  _ could she go? 

 

“It doesn’t matter, we don’t need to worry about it quite yet, but I just need you to know that, okay?”

 

It was Pansy’s turn to not answer straight away. She looked at his pale, skinny face; he looked positively awful. Pansy swallowed hard, her green eyes looking deep into his grey, and with a rush of relief she hadn’t even known she realised that the gaunt sallowness that had taken over Draco’s features did not appear to have taken the thunderstorm-like energy that lay in his eyes. 

 

_ He’s still there.  _

 

“Okay.” 

 

“So, no grotesque details please, that would be a lot of food to have to throw up, how was the patrol?”

 

Pansy let out a deep breath. 

 

“Tell me you did not just sigh over Neville Longbottom?” Draco interjected, cutting off the words Pansy had yet to speak.

 

“I  _ did not  _ just sigh over  _ anybody _ ,” Pansy replied, abashed.

 

“Uh huh, pull the other one, you’ll be batting your eyelashes next,” Draco said, his eyes rolling so far back Pansy found herself wondering for a split second whether they would end up permanently facing into his brain.  _ Idiot. _

 

“It was...good,” Pansy said, not entirely sure how much she should, or even wanted to tell Draco. It was times like this that Daphne was entirely the superior choice between the two. 

 

“Are you a proper…” he paused, clearly contemplating his wording, “ _ thing _ now, then?”

 

Pansy realised all of a sudden that her heart was pounding fast in her ears when faced with the task of answering such a simple question. She was now full of an anxious panic; as though her biggest, most overwhelming fear over Neville had suddenly jumped up and slapped her clean across the face with a dose of unwanted reality.

 

“I...I think so,” she stammered, bringing her right hand up to her mouth, rubbing her middle finger side to side over her bottom lip as she tried to find an appropriate way to word her concerns to Draco. “I just don’t...get… Draco, what the hell does he want me for?” she finished, the words tumbling in such a rush, it was as though each was chasing the one in front. 

 

“I know you like to think of yourself as just a massive bitch, and you  _ are,  _ don’t get me wrong-”

 

_ Oh, well thank you very much. _

 

_ “-but  _ you do have a _ few _ redeeming qualities that  _ could _ be seen as endearing,” Draco said, the hint of a smirk now present on his face.

 

“He’s so fucking  _ good,  _ Draco.”

 

“And you aren’t?”

 

“No, not like that. Not like him,” Pansy said, her heart heavy. “He fucking cares. I don’t care.”

 

“You don’t care?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“So, you made me eat a bloody banquet for nothing?”

 

“It’s not the same, he’s… he’s…risking so much.”

 

“You don’t think you’re risking anything?”

 

“Of course I am!” Pansy snapped, infuriated by the way Draco turned every one of her points on its head. She was Pansy Parkinson, for Merlin’s sake, and he was Neville Longbottom, incomparable. “But that doesn’t mean that he isn’t  _ doing  _ more, does it?” she ended, with a shout.

 

“You are such a stubborn cow, Pansy, do you know that?” Draco shot back.

 

“What the fuck is your problem, Draco?!”

 

“You! You infuriating wench! I just wish  _ for once  _ that you’d realise you aren’t any less deserving of happiness than anyone-fucking-else. You’ll make up any and every excuse to remain the bloody  _ Queen Bitch of Slytherin _ , not letting anyone but me, or Daphne, and sometimes not even us, in.” Pansy flinched, as though Draco had slapped her. She felt as though all the blood was draining from her head. “Have you seen the way he fucking looks at you? Have you?” Draco demanded.

 

“I don’t-”

 

“He’s falling  _ in love  _ with you, Pansy, you tit!”

 

“That’s ridiculous.”

 

“You’re not wrong there, but that doesn’t make it any less true, and what’s more I can see you feel the same about him. Neither of you are as subtle as you seem to think you are.” Draco’s arms were flailing in exasperation as he spoke. “Why the hell can you not understand? It  _ doesn’t matter  _ who has done more bloody good than the other, because you are  _ both _ good. It’s not a competition.  _ What  _ he sees in you, and you see in him isn’t important!”

 

Pansy’s eyes were narrowed, she daren’t admit that Draco could possibly be right. Instead doing what she did best, she countered the point he’d made she was most annoyed about. “I am  _ not  _ falling-”

 

“Don’t you fucking dare deny it!”

 

Pansy let out a humf of annoyance. “I hate you.”

 

“No, you hate that I can see you through like a fucking window.”

 

“I’m going to bed,” Pansy replied, haughtily, standing. 

 

“Enjoy dreaming about Longbottom,” Draco replied, considerably calmer, a small smirk upon his face once more.

 

“I will!” Pansy cried, before stomping to the door and alighting the stairs. 

 

* * *

 

 

Pansy awoke the next morning with a jolt. The clock on her bedside table showed it was just twenty-five to seven, which, considering it was a Saturday, was certainly not optimal. Her slumber had been fitful at best, and Pansy stared at the ceiling, reliving an array of dreams. None of them made sense, but all of them, she was fairly certain, were fuelled by the thought of one of two people. One light and one dark. One everything she wanted, and one she wanted nothing to do with. One, who had managed, the previous night, to make her happier than she remembered, and one, who had achieved, the same night, the exact opposite. 

 

She sighed, stretching her arms above her head as she deliberated both sides to her current situation. As complicated as they were before, both seemed infinitely more complex now, and where the mere memory of Neville’s touch was enough to elicit a shiver of goosebumps over her neck; the image of Rabastan’s note could warp her elation into an unforgiving panic in a fleeting second. 

 

Pansy walked down the staircase that led to the living room ten minutes later, a cocktail of exhaustion, numbness, and uncertainty swirling through her. It was as though it lingered in the very air she breathed; her own personal brand of metaphoric dark cloud.

 

Neither Pansy nor Draco had mentioned Rabastan, the note, or the glaring problems that went along with them again the previous evening. Luckily, reliving the last few hours she’d shared with Neville provided enough distraction from the ominous complication for Pansy to somewhat relax. The three large measures of firewhisky she’d allowed him to pour her had probably helped in that department also. She realised with a groan that permitting Draco to resume his consumption of the firewhisky she had initially confiscated upon her arrival back to the head’s dorm, had probably been unwise. 

 

The door to the living room was open and Pansy became aware of the presence of a moving  _ something _ , or rather more apt, a moving  _ someone _ , inside as she approached the ajar door. The someone in question was somewhat hidden behind the sofa as Pansy entered. The soft flop of a large pair of bunny-esq ears, along with a quiet, shanty-like humming, were the only clues Pansy needed to deduce that Winky was currently in the middle of her early-morning clean. 

 

Not wishing to startle the elf, Pansy cleared her throat as she moved towards the faded couch, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as Winky’s gaze swivelled to meet Pansy’s pale face.

 

“Mistress Pansy, Winky was not expecting to see your, or,” Winky’s head turned to face the staircase, her large eyes narrowing, “ _ him, _ until much later.”

 

Pansy tried, and failed, to stifle a small giggle. “I wasn’t aware House Elves were allowed to talk of the ones they have been instructed to serve in that way, Winky.”

 

Winky did not immediately reply, instead she surveyed Pansy, a look of derision clouded her small face. She smiled, or rather, her mouth twisted into something of a semblance of a smile, her bug-like eyes remained steely, and, Pansy realised, rather cunning.  _ You’d definitely be a Slytherin _

 

“Winky will refer to him as such when he begins to heed Winky’s advice about his bad habits. Winky knows, you see Miss Pansy,” the elf said, walking around the sofa, until she was eventually level to the aptly-listening Pansy, “Winky knows because Winky once almost lost herself behind the bottle, it was a dark time for Winky, Miss.”

 

Pansy swallowed hard at Winky’s words; she had certainly never heard of a House Elf succumbing to alcoholism. She could see the effects drinking was having on Draco, and her thoughts momentarily drifted to the permanent dark circles almost always present beneath the eyes of her former lover, and the gaunt, ill look he now had plastered over his pointed features. It was tough, to see one of her friends in the state Draco was in, but it felt worse, harsher somehow, to think of a being as small and frail-looking as a House-Elf, and certainly when it was a House-Elf she’d become more than fond since they’d met, dealing with the difficulty of addiction.

 

“I had no idea, Winky, but I’m very glad you managed to overcome it,” Pansy replied, a pang of pride gripping her heart as she looked into the eyes of the small elf. 

 

“You are kind, Miss Pansy, not many here see it, but I do, and  _ he  _ does too,”

 

“Draco?”

 

“Nooo,” Winky hissed, her voice low, “the  _ other  _ he, hmmm...”

 

Pansy bit the inside of her cheek, she hoped, no - she  _ knew,  _ Winky was right, Neville  _ could  _ see the good in her that the rest of the school couldn’t, and  _ wouldn’t.  _ But how could he ever deal with the terrible situation she shared with Rabastan Lestrange, who was part of the very reason that Neville was able to empathise with Pansy’s childhood. 

 

“The bad man troubles Mistress,” Winky said, sadly, in response to Pansy’s silence. For the second time, Pansy didn’t answer, instead nodding briefly as a hollow  _ something  _ resided itself in her chest. 

 

“Miss Pansy must not let the bad man take the happiness she shares with the kind boy, the good boy. Miss Pansy must find a way to flee the darkness. Winky sees it, the kind boy has darkness too, he needs Miss Pansy just as she needs him.”

 

“Winky,” Pansy began, unable to stop a sob from choking her words as she did. “The bad man is the reason that Neville has darkness,” she finished, unable to say anything further as fear and heartache ripped at the very fibre of her being.

 

Pansy was aware of very little as she cried, but sometime later, she would come to realise a few heartwarming truths that existed in her sea of uncertainty; the small elf who she’d opened her heart to had levitated Pansy’s bedclothes downstairs, lay her head down to rest, and refused to leave the sobbing witch until her racked cries finally subsided as the exhaustion she’d fought, ultimately won. 


	21. Fit as a Gnat

In the days following both her kiss with Neville, and her correspondence from Rabastan, Pansy found herself unusually busy. She felt mostly thankful, as it kept her mind occupied away from the lingering pangs of fear, or doubt, that crept into her conscious whenever her mind was less than overloaded.

 

There were, however, times where she’d find herself rushing down a corridor only to find herself passing  _ him _ , usually standing looking irritatingly _ not _ busy, and, if possible, even more good looking. Now that she knew not only what he looked like, but how he  _ felt,  _ and how he tasted, she’d experience a rush of bitterness towards whatever, or whoever, she was rushing off to, or from, usually on some inane errand from one of the Carrows. The two deputies had taken it upon themselves to begin calling for Pansy and Draco to carry out an array of tasks, usually menial, for apparently no reason at all. 

 

It had been after five days of this constant badgering that the pair had faced, that Draco appeared in their living room one evening, his expression thunderous and explained how, after he had thrown a box of potion phials on the floor in a fit of rage, that he must carry the box down seven floors without magic, Alecto had burst into a fit of laughter, and informed him that she and her brother had decided to see how amenable Draco and Pansy were to  _ a bit of manual Muggle-work _ . 

 

“Stupid bitch!” Draco had roared, before promptly blasting a hole in one of the living room’s powder blue walls. “Her and her fish-faced fuck of a brother need to take a walk off the Astronomy Tower, right now!”

 

“There was  _ no  _ purpose to all those things they made us do?” 

 

“Of course there wasn’t!” Draco seethed. “Unless, of course, you think that making us look like dicks just for their amusement is a great fucking purpose, otherwise, no.” 

 

_ Bastards.  _ “Bastards.”

 

When they hadn’t been doing a number of menial and consequently utterly pointless tasks for the Carrows, Pansy and Draco had spent a lot of their free time practising, until they finally managed to perfect their screaming spell. They essentially had to invent the thing themselves, a sort of take on a Caterwauling charm, which had been relatively straightforward, but still tricky to accomplish. 

 

“Now, we just need to make sure we can cast it nonverbally,” Pansy said, wiping a bead of sweat from her left eyelid. “I had no idea screaming took so much physical effort.”

 

“It doesn’t, but when you’re about as fit as a gnat.”

 

“I’m fitter than a gnat!” Pansy snapped, although the second bead of sweat she could feel making its way down the side of her temple seemed to mockingly say otherwise. 

 

Practising the screaming spell, which needed the word  _ delorum _ said with an upwards right flick of the wand to work, as well as the continued daily Occlumency, which went on sometimes well past midnight, as well as patrols every few nights, left very little room for Pansy to either stress over Rabastan or stress over Neville; though the latter admittedly was a far more enjoyable source of stress.

 

Luckily, or perhaps even more excruciatingly, Neville had made sure that even in spite of her lack of free moments, he was never far from her thoughts. Although that would most likely have been the case regardless if Pansy was prepared to be brutally honest with herself, which she rarely was. He had began to send her  a number of small notes that he managed to slip either into her bag, or on her person - in a number of imaginative ways - without fail most days. 

 

The first had appeared the very next day after the kiss. It was also the same day she had gotten up, had a bit of a breakdown to Winky, and promptly fallen asleep again on the sofa. That afternoon had seen she and Daphne take a short lived trip into Hogsmeade; once a most popular and looked forward to activity from almost all the students, Hogsmeade weekends had become nothing more than another depressing reality of the world they now resided in. The dementors were  _ supposed  _ to steer clear of the village during all daylight hours, but especially during the weekends of the student visits. However, the soul-sucking creatures still hovered high above, their cloaked, silent, silhouettes drifting ominously overhead.

 

“Oh, I  _ hate  _ those things,” Daphne had said, her head snapping downwards as though she could drive the creatures away just by ceasing to look at them. “Can you do a patronus? Blaise and I have been practising.”

 

“No, I’ve never actually tried,” Pansy said, thoughtfully. “Probably worth learning, I suppose,” she finished with a sigh, as though working on the screaming spell, on top of Occlumency, wasn’t enough.

 

“Mine doesn’t have an animal shape, yet, but I can get a wispy thing. It’s tough,” Daphne said, linking her left arm around Pansy’s right. 

 

The trip hadn’t been a particularly long one. Daphne had needed a new quill, and they’d made a quick stop at Honeydukes, stocking up on a number of sweet treats that might make their lives seem just a touch less depressing. 

 

The pair had debated a quick drink at The Three Broomsticks, but decided against the idea when the owner, Madam Rosmerta, who had been outside to adjust the main sign, had shot Pansy a look of disappointed disdain.  _ For fuck’s sake, when will this end? _

 

“Maybe not,” Daphne hissed, gripping Pansy’s arm tighter in her own, forcing the dark haired witch closer to her. The stony camouflage that immediately descended over Pansy’s face was not missed by her best friend.  

 

“Oh, Pans, it’s okay,” Daphne said encouragingly.

 

Pansy didn’t speak until the two had left the village’s main street. Not that the place was particularly busy, but there were enough people around to make Pansy uncomfortable speaking openly. So, she waited until the pair were on a deserted part of the lane that separated the school with its neighbouring village.

 

“The whole world thinks I’m about to become a Death Eater, and everybody else probably thinks I’m already one.”

 

“I know you aren’t,” Daphne replied, “and so does Millie, and Blaise, Theo, and Draco,” she squeezed Pansy’s arm as she spoke, “and Longbottom.”

 

Pansy turned her head to look at her best friend, a slight smile creeping on her face despite the sinking feeling that still remained in her gut kindled by Rosmerta’s stare. “I have to tell you something.”

 

Daphne didn’t speak. Instead, Pansy watched the blonde gasp, a look of excitement misting over her perfect features, her bright blue eyes full of expectation.

 

“We had a patrol last night,” Pansy began.

 

“You and Longbottom?”

 

“No, me and Slughorn,” Pansy answered, dryly. “Yes, me and Longbottom,”

 

“And?” Daphne asked, elongating the word.

 

“We talked for ages,  _ properly  _ talked, you know?”

 

“Mmhmmm,”

 

“And then we held hands  _ while  _ talking,” 

 

Daphne let out a soft _eeee_ sound as the grip she held onto Pansy’s arm reached painful levels.

 

“Then, we  _ might _ have kissed-”

 

“Yes!”

 

“For ages-”

 

“Yes, yes, yes!”

 

Daphne had spent the entirety of the walk back to Hogwarts plying Pansy for almost every possible detail of she and Neville’s conversation, kiss, hand-holding and everything else in between. By the time the pair arrived back at school, Pansy felt well and truly interrogated, and Daphne finally looked satisfied. 

 

“Oh, it’s so romantic,” Daphne said, dreamy tones washing around her well-spoken voice.

 

“It’s...fucked up,” Pansy countered.

 

They walked back to Pansy’s dorm in relative silence. The corridors were mostly empty, many students choosing to not leave the safety of their common rooms for fear of the possibility of bumping into an irate Alecto Carrow. 

 

“Can we get some food?” Daphne asked, and at her words, Pansy realised that she, too, was ravenous. 

 

“Sure, I’ll get Winky to sort us something, what are you in the mood for?”

 

“Oh, anything will do, maybe…” 

 

But, Pansy only heard the beginning half of Daphne’s sentence. She had shoved her hands roughly in the pockets of her jeans as they walked into the Head Rooms, and her right hand had enclosed around something, a something she was fairly sure wasn’t there earlier today. 

 

Bringing the folded scrap of parchment from her pocket, Pansy frowned. She knew what she wished it to be - or rather who she wished it was from - but it couldn’t be, she hadn’t seen him, or any of his friends all day.

 

“What’s that?” she heard Daphne query.

 

“Good question.” Pansy unfolded the parchment, her breath in her throat at the utter impossible prospect that somehow, deep inside her, she knew was the truth. 

 

Pansy read the note in a few, short seconds, before passing it to a confused Daphne and uncharacteristically refused to hide the wide smile that had taken up residence on her pale face. 

 

“Oh, you  _ cannot  _ say that this isn’t romantic now!” Daphne exclaimed with a squeal. “Oh Pans, he must  _ really  _ like you.”

 

Pansy’s thoughts drifted back to the previous night, and a selection of the words exchanged between her and Draco in particular.  _ He’s falling  _ in love _ with you, Pansy, you tit! _

 

Daphne passed the note back to Pansy, who read the scribbled, although from what she had seen thus far of Neville’s handwriting, somewhat neatly written, note.

 

_ I wish I could kiss you forever _

 

The second note didn’t appear until two days later. It had been a long Monday full of difficult classes, and an increase in Pansy’s feeling of being even more shunned and ignored by the rest of the students. Neville himself hadn’t paid her much more attention than usual, though his array of lingering glances burned with a whole new fire now, and with a whole new desire, that rippled between the two of them like their own personal brand of static, magical energy. 

 

Pansy had slumped onto the couch, massaging her right hand against the back of her stiff neck. A transfiguration essay she had yet to start, let alone finish, despite it being due the following day, awaited her, as well as the next month’s prefect patrol schedule.

 

It was the patrol schedule that ended up being the site for the next note to appear, and a quiet, “What the fuck?” escaped Pansy’s lips as the small folded parchment fell onto her lap, exactly the same as two days before.  _ How the hell is he doing this?  _

 

After unfolding the parchment, and reading the words to herself, Pansy let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. It seemed to release not just air but all the stress she’d felt only a moment prior, as an elated flutter began to dance in her stomach.

 

_ I’d be very grateful to be paired with the Head Girl again. _

 

Pansy didn’t have to wait as long for the third note, as it appeared the very next morning. Very nearly pouring some cereal on top of the perfectly folded parchment that was situated inside her breakfast bowl. Pansy blinked dazedly at the parchment for a few seconds, before swiftly grabbing it between her fingers and read the words quickly, whilst her Housemates were busying themselves with their own breakfasts.

 

_ Good morning, beautiful. _

 

The fourth note appeared the next day, in the late afternoon, seemingly by a series of events of chance. 

 

It had been a day where the Carrows’ had taken a number of liberties with the menial tasks they had set Pansy, and a day she was fairly sure she would have cursed anyone who chose to look at her in a way that she deemed annoying in any way, shape, or form. Draco had forced her into longer Occlumency practise the night before, and Pansy was feeling particularly crotchety. 

 

The witch whirled around a third floor corridor, absentmindedly daydreaming about which curses she would gain the most pleasure from inflicting on Alecto the most, when she happened to not notice the small group of bodies that were coming around the same corner in the opposite direction. 

 

The collision wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but the shock of the impact did make the items she was carrying drop from her arms. “Bugger,” Pansy said aloud, to no one in particular, before rounding on the mystery group of students, the other half of her crash.

 

Pansy only just managed to stop herself from emitting an audible groan as she recognised the scowling look of Ginny Weasley, a confused expression that belonged to the face of Seamus Finnegan, a bemused, absentminded half smile possessed by Loony Lovegood and lastly, Pansy swallowed unable to bring herself to immediately look at the annoyingly amused look upon his face, Neville Longbottom. 

 

The first three students said nothing, clearly not wishing to spend any more time in Pansy’s company than necessary.  _ The feeling is mutual, believe me.  _ Neville, however, scooped up a couple of books that Pansy had yet to pick up, her hands full with a box of Dark Art paraphernalia that Pansy wished she could have nothing to do with. Neville hastily handed the books back to her, and Pansy didn’t notice the brief, yet definite way his eyes met hers, before dropping back to the topmost book and then rising up to her own, once more. 

 

Pansy swallowed, nodding momentarily and set off down the corridor without a second glance as Ginny’s audible “You’re far too nice for your own good,” held her attention. Continuing on her route for a few more corridors and a few more corners, Pansy eventually felt she was far enough away from the three Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw.

 

She had stopped and perched herself loosely on a large windowsill, her heart thumping fast as she gingerly opened the hardback front cover of the book on the top. The note fell onto her lap, folded just like the others, and Pansy double checked that both ends of the hallway were definitely deserted - whilst trying to keep the smile from pulling at the corners of her mouth - before unfolding the parchment and reading the written, inked words.

 

_ The way you play with your hair when you’re thinking is adorable. _

 

Pansy sighed, the note balled in her fist as she pressed her back into the cold pane of the window and deliberated his words. Pansy Parkinson was not called  _ adorable  _ very often, in fact, it was possibly the last word that  _ anyone  _ would consider when asked to describe the Slytherin. But, Pansy would take it. She’d berate him for it, of course, because to the outside world, and even Neville, Pansy was most definitely  _ not  _ adorable, but she knew she’d keep the note forever, as a constant reminder that somehow, in the bleak obscurity of the world they now lived in,  _ someone  _ thought that Pansy was adorable, and she knew that her sanity would depend, at one point or another, on her holding onto that knowledge. 

 

The fifth note was arguably the hardest to conceal, primarily due the comical way in which it was presented to her. Six individual, miniscule pieces of parchment found their way to her at various points of her Herbology lesson, in no discernible order. The first, after Pansy had gotten used to the notes that featured full sentences, had a rather disappointing  _ to  _ written on it. The next had a solitary  _ I,  _ and the next said  _ again.  _ Pansy refused to look at Neville, busying herself with the repotting of her assigned plants, scribbling notes as she went. She could  _ feel  _ his smile as he sneakily watched her receive, read, and promptly put away each one of the one-word notes. The following three pieces had  _ need, you, and kiss,  _ scrawled across them, respectively. 

 

Pansy finished up the task she was working on, and after checking she was definitely not being watched - with the sly exception of Neville’s frequent glances - Pansy pulled her book close to her chest, and arranged the notes atop a random page.

 

_ I need to kiss you again. _

 

Pansy breathed deeply, the urge to put Neville, and coincidentally her, out of his misery, was so strong she could practically  _ feel _ his body pressed into hers. She decided to do something she had so far refrained from, despite the temptation, and wrote Neville a hasty note back.

  
  


* * *

 

 

The next day, after Draco had confirmed that the ridiculous tasks she’d been breaking her back to do all week for the Carrows had been for nothing, Pansy was feeling particularly antsy. She had finally finished up December’s prefect schedule, and was sitting impatiently, waiting. 

 

“What do you keep checking the clock for? Expecting someone?” Draco asked, one of his brows raised.

 

“Not exactly,” Pansy answered, her eyes drifting pointlessly to the timepiece on the wall. The face showed it hadn’t even been one minute since the last time she’d snuck a glance. 

 

“Well, I’m going to assume you aren’t expecting a delivery. You going somewhere... to see someone, perhaps?”

 

“Maybe,” Pansy murmured, annoyed at Draco’s typical ability to decipher a situation so quickly.

 

“And, no prizes for guessing  _ who  _ that might be, I presume.”

 

Glancing at the clock again, Pansy internally cursed her own lack of patience. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Draco.”

 

“You know, as long as the pair of you can control any wandering hands, you can bring him here. I don’t mind, mainly because I’m  _ not _ jealous.”

 

“You’d be okay with that?” Pansy asked, surprised. It was one thing for Draco to be supportive, and to even be almost friendly with Longbottom on the odd occasion, but she knew it was another one entirely to be in the company of your ex-girlfriend, and her new whatever the hell Neville was to her. She wasn’t entirely sure how exactly she would feel, were the situation reversed, and she regarded her friend with an air of respect. 

 

“Of course,” Draco said, sounding sincere.

 

“I might.”

 

“But I swear to Merlin, if you fuck him in my chair, I’ll hex his dick off.”

 

“Duly noted.”

 

* * *

  
  


An hour and a half later, Pansy found herself walking quietly through the halls of Hogwarts swiftly, and without faltering. It would most likely be unpleasant, even for Pansy, to have to run into Amycus, or Alecto, at this time of night. 

 

Luckily, the path she walked was entirely clear of others, and she reached her destination quickly, and without incident. 

 

The door to the empty classroom was closed, and silent, as she approached, and after one quick, further look to each side, she opened it and slipped inside. Her eyes took a second to adjust to the almost darkness, which was pitch black except for the  _ lumos _ light of a solitary wand. In the wandlight she could make out a tall, familiar figure, who Pansy, after casting a swift locking charm on the door, marched straight towards, her desire to reach him holding no bounds by this point. 

 

“You made it, I was star-,” Neville began.

 

“Shut up, Longbottom,” Pansy’s voice was breathless as she threw herself against his firm chest, and her mind solely focussed on one, ever intensifying desire as her arms snaking around his neck as her lips and her world collided with his once more.


	22. This One was a Thunderstorm

He tasted like apple pie, smelled like autumn days, and felt like heaven. The firm tenderness of his hands moved first over her back before scrunching their way through her hair and stroking their way down her neck to caress the side of her jaw. He ran his fingertips down the full length of her back, finally anchoring his palms at either side of her waist, forcing her even closer against him with a demanding, yet delicate grip. 

 

Her own movements complimented his instantaneously. Her arms were already around his neck, but she locked them fully keeping him bound to her in an iron clad clinch, whilst allowing her midriff to be pulled into him even tighter. 

 

It wasn’t like the first time they had kissed; there was no tentative build-up, no moments of wondering  _ when  _ and  _ if,  _ there was simply an unexplainable, urgent need for her body to be against his, and for his mouth to be moving in time with hers. If their first kiss had been the gloriously warm, dreamlike haze that appeared in the height of summer, this one was the thunderstorm you watched with a thrill in the dead of the night - untamed and with an earthly rawness that encompassed absolutely everything in that moment. 

 

Pansy became scarcely aware that Neville was shifting them. Whirling her to the right, he moved and positioned her with ease until she felt the edge of what she assumed was a table against the backs of her thighs, prompting her, for the first time, to somewhat reluctantly pull away from their kiss. Throwing her head backwards, Pansy placed her hands firmly, palms down, on the table and with a sly grin, quickly hopped up, her backside landing gently on the surface. 

 

Widening the gap in her thighs so that the fabric of her skirt was stretched taut, Pansy placed both of her hands on either side of Neville’s waist and guided him gently to make the two small steps it took for him to be, once again, at an optimal closeness to her. This time, she thought happily, as she wrapped her legs around the back of Neville’s thighs, caging the Gryffindor to her, they were even more conveniently positioned.

 

Taking advantage of the new level of intimate proximity in which they were now positioned, Pansy and Neville both raised, and lowered, their heads to the others’, respectively. Pansy’s hands were comfortably placed around Neville’s back, slightly up from his waist, and just a moment before their lips met once more, Neville’s left hand connected with the back of Pansy’s head, just above her neck. She felt him ball a handful of her hair in his fist, which he used to effortlessly guide her head towards his. His other hand landed on the side of her waist, the pad of his thumb gently tracing small circles over her shirt. His fingers dug in slightly, just enough for Pansy to be conscious of their presence, but not enough to cause pain,  _ not that I’d have minded,  _ she thought, grinning internally at her lustful want.

 

This kiss became a touch more reminiscent of their first, which was mostly down to Neville. Pansy was intent on losing herself in the same passionate thunderstorm as before, but Neville, apparently had other ideas. Whereas she would have forcefully crashed their lips together once more, Neville hesitated; using his grip on her hair to steady her head, he forced her to wait, mouth poised mere millimetres from hers, so close her bottom lip tickled slightly from the steady breaths that were escaping from his. 

 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he breathed, before planting her with a single, lingering kiss.

 

“Yes,” Pansy answered, huskily. Yes, she knew exactly what she did to him, because he elicited the same reactions, and wants, and needs in her. Her hands tightened on their position on his back, which caused an unexpected groan to radiate from him, and she felt him inch even closer to her, as he allowed her another solitary, agonising kiss.  _ Oh, you tease. _

 

“You make me feel like...I can barely breath,” he whispered, before pressing his mouth on hers with such an unexpected pressure that Pansy was unable to stop herself from being the one to groan aloud this time.  _ You make me feel the same. _

 

Their lips began to slowly move as one;  she used her hands to pull him into her so he was pressed into her upper body, with no room left to maneuver, they were as one. The hand that was still fisting her hair loosened its grip and pressed into the area where her neck met the base of her scalp. Whilst his other hand, which had until now remained on her side, joined its counterpart, and began rubbing the side of her neck, paying close attention to the spot directly behind Pansy’s left earlobe. 

 

Time became abstract, as did every semblance of reality. All Pansy was aware of was that she put everything she had into kissing him - all the good and bad, all the stress, worry, and pain. She was still bristling with desire of course, but now there was more, or perhaps less, because in that kiss, everything around her ceased to exist. In that moment, kissing him was all at once neither the sun nor the storm, but both; and every breeze, raindrop, and snowflake that existed in between. 

 

Eventually, they broke apart gasping, breathless and intoxicated with the mere presence of each other. Neville pressed his forehead against Pansy’s, and for a few moments neither spoke, no sound present save for the settling of their laboured breathing.

 

“Woah,” Neville said, eventually, as the pads of his thumbs stroked the back of Pansy’s neck gently.

 

“Yeah,” Pansy breathed, her voice raspy. Even though she was technically sitting, the Slytherin was fairly sure that if she were to let her grip on Neville’s back loosen, she would topple sideways. “Was I worth the wait?” she added, teasingly, once her breath her steadied to something close to a normal rhythm. 

 

Pansy felt the soft feel of his lips against her forehead. “Of course you were,” he murmured, his words obscured slightly due to a number of delicate kisses he was currently placing upon her skin. 

 

“Mmmmm,” Pansy wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly; losing herself in his sturdy frame and the soft, fluttery kisses he was still trailing over the top of her face.

 

“Pansy.” She heard Neville say, a few moments later. “I’m going to have to get back.”

 

“No,” Pansy answered simply.

 

Neville chuckled dryly at her response. “I have to.”

 

“What could you possibly need to get back to, it’s Friday night,” Pansy asked, a tad sharper than she had intended.

 

“A…meeting...like...thing,”

 

“A meeting-like-thing,” Pansy repeated, pulling most of her torso back in order to bring him into her view. “Is that code for your little resistance fighting club?”

 

“Yeah,” and Pansy was momentarily taken aback by his honesty. “Friday nights are kind of a big deal, and whilst you have no idea how much I’ve  _ loved  _ being here with you.”

 

“I have some idea,” Pansy quipped, smirking as she allowed her eyes to flicker briefly to Neville's crotch and back up to meet the blue of his eyes. She recalled how she had been very much able to feel just how much of a good time Neville was having during a rather large portion of their kissing. 

 

He snorted. “But I’ve stayed too long already, I have no reason not to be there.” He found each of her hands with his own, interlacing her fingers with his so that their palms were touching.

 

Pansy sighed, before eventually nodding in understanding. “I get it,” she said.

 

He kissed her once more, it was lingering yet at the same time over far too soon. Pansy swallowed hard, knowing he was waiting for her cue to tell him to leave, and so with a heavy heart she forced herself to say the one word she would have paid a great deal of gold not to have to say at that moment. “Go.”

 

Neville nodded and looked deep into her eyes before whispering a husky, “Goodnight.” Turning to leave, she kept her right hand locked in his left and the pair crossed the empty classroom. Neville poked his head quickly out of the door, clearly assessing whether both directions were empty. He leaned into Pansy for one last, searing kiss, before disappearing from the room; an action she waited approximately one minute before replicating, dodging in the other direction, and began to make her way back to her dorm. 

 

Pansy met no one on her journey back. She debated momentarily whether it would be worth making a detour to the dungeons to see Daphne and Millicent, or Theo, but from the numerous tellings that Pansy had been subjected to of Daphne and Blaise’s sex life, and from what Pansy had come to understand of how Theo and Millicent were choosing to spend their evenings, as much as they, according to Daphne, were still denying their involvement to together, which, the more she thought of it, was particularly strange of Theo - and vowed to corner one of them soon to find out.

 

The dark-haired witch sighed and set off to her Friday night, which she was absolutely sure involved a half-drunk bottle of firewhisky, and Draco Malfoy.  _ Probably better to not leave him on his own, anyway. _

 

* * *

 

 

Pansy walked briskly, her mind was buzzing with the purity of her recent happiness. And still as ever, her always-present - albeit right now - endorphin-dampened, worries but mostly with an entirely frustrating, and the overwhelming constant rush of missing him,  _ truly  _ missing Neville.  

 

Silently cursing Neville for daring to make her want him even more, Pansy arrived at the entrance to her rooms quicker than she had anticipated. The living room was dimly lit when she entered, and she was surprised to see, occupied; not just by a clearly intoxicated Draco, but by an equally intoxicated Theo.

 

“Pans!” Theo cried, his voice wobbly and his eyes, bloodshot. His arms had been flung open as he said her name, inviting her to him for a hug. Pansy sighed, shaking her head at the sight of her friend; Theo was lounging on her couch, his shaggy hair was scruffier than usual, and the dopey grin that was present on his handsome face was intoxicating. 

 

Pansy laughed, before sinking down onto the sofa half next, and half on top of, Theo. She wasted no time in pressing herself into his torso, which, considering how downtrodden she had felt since she and Neville had parted ways not long before, turned out to be just what she needed.

 

“I miss this face,” Theo slurred, elongating the last word as he scrunched Pansy’s cheeks between his fingers.

 

“Ugh! Theo,” Pansy snapped, her voice obscured from Theo’s maddening grip, “get off my face!”

 

Theo dropped his hand, and wrapped it, along with his other arm, around Pansy once more. “Where’ve you been?  _ He,”  _ Theo nodded his head sharply in Draco’s direction, “wouldn’t tell me, said it was  _ ‘Pansy’s business.’”  _ He snorted, air quoting the last two words.

 

“Well, that’s because it is  _ Pansy’s business.”  _ Pansy shot Draco a look of gratitude. “Why are you so happy? Even drunk Theo isn’t usually  _ this  _ happy,” she continued, observing the grin that was once again plastered on Theo’s face, grateful to steer the conversation away from her mysterious whereabouts. 

 

Theo brought his right index finger up, and placed it vertically over his lips. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

 

“Obviously.” 

 

“I’m in love,” Theo replied, simply. 

 

_ So am I _

 

“Oh?” Pansy answered, and Millicent’s hopeful expression crossed her mind’s eye. Theo had  _ loved  _ a lot of girls in their time at Hogwarts, but never once had Pansy ever heard him say the words  _ in love  _ together.

 

“Well, I’m very happy for you both,” Pansy stated. 

 

“You don’t even know who it is!” Theo shot back, agast. 

 

“Everyone knows who it is.”

 

“Oh,” Theo replied simply. “It’s different this time,” he swallowed, looking momentarily sober once more, “with Millie,” he said her name with a remarkable amount of softness.

 

“Good, she deserves it,” Pansy said. “Don’t fuck it up, Theo.”

 

“I’m trying. But, I wanted to talk to you.”

 

Pansy’s eyes widened a touch, why would Theo need to talk to her about Millicent? She shuffled in her seat, so that she could see Theo entirely. “Me?” 

 

Theo’s words were slurred but his eyes were steady as they bored into Pansy’s. “She’s...struggling.”

 

“With?”

 

Theo’s face dropped to his knees and his words, when they finally appeared, were whispered. “I don’t think she thinks she can stand against her parents.”

 

Pansy’s eyes met Draco’s momentarily. “Shit,” she replied softly. 

 

“Yeah, I don’t really know how to...anytime I bring it up she kisses me and we…” he trailed off. 

 

“Well, you could try and obtain some of what we sophisticated people called  _ self control _ ,” Draco piped up. 

 

Theo’s face was now entirely within his hands, and he let out a muffled  _ argh  _ at Draco’s words. Lifting his face only slightly, he replied, “I know mate, but she gets so fucking upset about it. She doesn’t want to talk to me, she wants to forget and I can’t blame her for that, I...I can’t.”

 

Pansy swallowed. “No, I can’t either, really,” her thoughts briefly lost in how much she relished being able to just  _ forget  _ in the moments she lost herself in Neville. 

 

“Have you asked Daph to maybe talk to her?”

 

Theo looked up again, into Pansy’s face. “I love Daph, I do,” he began, “but she has as much tact as a hippogriff does when it decides it doesn’t like Draco’s face.”

 

Pansy snorted, whilst Draco mumbled something about  _ that bloody bird,  _ and replied, “That’s true,” she said fondly. “I can speak to Mills.”

 

Theo nodded, “Thanks Pans, I know she doesn’t think it’s the same for me, my dad is a Death Eater, there’s no grey areas there, but her parents - they’re not  _ bad _ people, they’re just choosing to support who they think will keep them alive, and she  _ gets  _ that. Hell, even I can understand it.”

 

“I’m not sure I’ll be much help then,” Pansy sighed, and proceeded to tell Theo the story of how she had learnt her father had become a fully fledged Death-Eater. 

 

“Shit,” Theo replied. 

 

“Yeah,  _ shit,  _ and I don’t think I’d ever  _ be  _ one of them, well, no, I  _ know  _ I wouldn’t, but if it wasn’t for-” Pansy halted herself, mid-sentence. 

 

“For what?” Theo’s brow knitted together. 

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Not  _ what… _ ” Draco interjected, much to Pansy’s annoyance and she glared daggers at Draco whilst attempting to ignore a very curious Theo. 

 

“Then...who? Is this to do with where you were earlier? Were you  _ with  _ someone?”

 

“No one, nothing, shut up Theo!”

 

Theo spun his head around, his drunken gaze seeking out Draco. “Mate, who’s Pans hooking up with?”

 

“Draco, I swear to Salazar,  _ do not  _ answer him!” Pansy rounded on Draco, still furious.

 

Draco smirked and shrugged. “You’re going to have to get  _ that _ out of her yourself.”

 

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _

 

“Who are you hooking up with?”

 

“No one!”

 

_ Well, that’s not entirely a lie. _

 

Theo’s characteristic grin was now firmly in place. “Go on,” he said, changing tact and nudging Pansy cheekily. “Tell me.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Pansy, you look parched,” Theo said, his intention unashamedly clear. “Have some whisky.”

 

“Nice try.”

 

“What?” he replied, feigning a look of innocent indignation. “You look like you need a drink. Your hair's a mess; sex hair, if ever I saw it.”

 

“You have to have sex to have sex hair,” Pansy stated, dryly.

 

“Fine, fine, wildly-getting-off-with-someone hair, then.”

 

Pansy narrowed her eyes at Theo, but did not dispute his accusation.

 

“Ah-ha!”

 

“I’m still not telling you who.”

 

“You’re just being a bitch because you aren’t getting any of the real good stuff.”

 

Pansy narrowed her eyes, taking it in turns to glare at both Draco and Theo, in turn as her thoughts drifting momentarily back to the moment Neville had said he had to leave. “Touche,” she grumbled, summoning a nearby glass and taking a long drink, her still thunderous expression daring Draco or Theo to say anything more. Which, granted, neither did, until they both, after staring at each other for a good thirty seconds, burst out laughing. 

  
  


Theo had fallen asleep not long after, his tousled hair flopping over his closed eyes as he emitted a loud, continuous train of snores. Pansy found herself awkwardly squashed at his feet.

 

“So,” Draco said, and it worryingly showed the extent of his drinking habit that the amount that floored and knocked out Theo, had virtually no effect on Draco. Pansy frowned, promising herself that she’d try harder to get him to cut down. “You have a good time?”

 

“I did,” Pansy answered, honestly. Her brow furrowed as she thought hard about how to approach the subject she needed to speak of.

 

“So then, why do you look so bloody miserable?”

 

“I need your advice.”

 

“I refuse to give you tips on how to seduce Longbottom.” 

 

_ Shut up, you moron! _

 

“Draco I...I need to get out of meeting Rabastan. You have to help me,” she said, forcing her voice to stay level as she breathed deeply at the harsh plea resonating in her own words.

 

Draco sat forward in his chair, frowning. “The Lestranges don’t fuck around,” he said.

 

“I know,” she replied, her voice quiet.

 

Draco did not speak for some time, his forehead had several horizontal lines rippling across it, and Pansy knew better than to disturb his delicate thought process. And so she waited, with Rabastan’s words and Neville’s touch chilling and comforting her, simultaneously.

 

“Okay,” Draco said, finally. “You write him back, tell him you need to stay here over Christmas.”

 

“That seems far too simple, he’ll just ask the Carrows. Draco he could ask the Carrows  _ any _ time, and then he’ll know I’ve lied,” Pansy’s voice rose into a hysteria that was so uncharacteristic, that Draco looked momentarily alarmed. 

 

“Pans, calm down. The Carrows will tell him the same damn thing.”

 

“How in the bloody fuck-”

 

“I’m going to use the Imperius Curse on them.”

 

“You are not!” Pansy cried, crushed at his words. “They’ll fight it-”

 

“-they’re really fucking stupid, Pansy, I’m fairly sure they couldn’t fight a blast-ended skrewt.”

 

“Someone will notice!” 

 

“They won’t. I’ll  _ just  _ do it to make them say they’re making you stay here, everything else, I’ll just command them to act normally.”

 

“Draco, that is really fucking risky.”

 

“True.”

 

“What if, you know,  _ he,  _ notices,” Pansy asked, a shudder overcoming her at the prospect of Voldemort working out Draco’s actions.

 

“There’s a chance,” Draco admitted, “but a small one, the Carrows aren’t exactly respected. I’m pretty sure the whole reason they were sent here was to get them out of his hair, not that he has any,” he added, the hint of a smirk was present on his pale face as he did. “And I’m fairly confident I can hide the memory enough in case he decides to poke around in my head,” he added with a grumble.

 

“What if it doesn’t work? What if Rabastan still demands to see me?”

 

Again, Draco did not immediately respond; instead he studied her, intently.

 

“Then I find a way to get you out of here, away to somewhere he won’t be able to touch you.”

 

“Draco...”   
  


“Don’t fight me on this, Pansy.”

 

And, for one of the only times in her life, she didn’t. 


	23. Where Would We Go?

_ Rabastan, _

 

_ Due to Head Girl duties, I will be staying at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays, and will be unable to see you on the 21st.  _

 

_ Pansy. _

 

Looking up, Pansy twisted her head to the right, eyes searching skywards towards Draco’s intense stare.

 

The blond wizard was currently standing reading her written words over her shoulder, and at her glance, he shot her a curt nod.    
  
Sighing, Pansy inhaled deeply through her nose. Her eyes momentarily closed as she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry and her heart now racing at the thought and realisation of what she was now in the process of doing. She was lying to, and essentially defying, Rabastan Lestrange.  _ Fuck. _

 

She felt Draco’s hands perch themselves atop each of her shoulders, before giving them both a quick, comforting squeeze, he turned and made his way toward the door that led to the stairs to their rooms. 

 

“Night, Pans.” 

 

“Night,” she replied, glancing briefly at the couch, where a snoring Theo was now taking up the entirety of the faded blue seat cushions. “I’m glad I won’t have his head in the morning,” she added, shaking her head slightly at the humorous sight that Theo made; his tousled dark hair resting gently against his forehead, his mouth a wide, gaping cavern, the one imperfection to his otherwise handsome appearance. 

 

She watched him; the peaceful boy asleep on her couch. Theo was, in many ways, just like Pansy; their unfavourable family ties, which came with somewhat of an expectancy to fulfil a role neither could, nor would, properly commit to, alongside the bullshit nobility that existed solely because of what filled the line under which  _ Last Name  _ was written upon both their birth certificates.

 

Theo was another who was followed by a series of disdainful whispers wherever he went within the castle; although his were less cut and dry than either Pansy’s or Draco’s, and more filled with a mist of wonder - and in the case of a number of wayward females, hope. Although Pansy knew that this hope was far less a hope that Theo was not, in fact, a Death Eater, but moreso something of a depraved want to be the one to illicit him into stopping being a Death Eater; a fruitless endeavour, Pansy pondered. 

 

Theodore Nott may appear the very image of aspiring follower of Voldemort. His cool, charismatic presentation, even when faced with watching the needless torture that currently filled the old castle, the never faltering strut he exhibited that easily put even Draco’s to shame, and not to mention his flagrantly obvious dark family ties, but Pansy knew all too well that Theodore Nott was no more a Death Eater than the couch that he currently rested upon. In fact, what very little people knew, was that Theodore Nott was a kitten, a sad, and to put it frankly, maltreated kitten - who abhorred violence, be it physical or mental, against innocents. Where Draco had been pampered, Pansy ignored, and Daphne loved - Theo had been abused, and thus, in what may have destroyed one with lesser will, had given the scared, broken boy the tools in which he’d used to lock a part of himself away, instead leaving the cold, albeit cracked, shell of the Theo they had quickly grown to love.  He was, of course, an expert in sarcasm, an outrageous flirt, and the joker who probably caused their small group the most annoyance, but he was  _ theirs.  _ As she looked at him, Pansy found herself hoping to hell that Millicent could find it within herself to defy that which she knew was wrong, despite the ties of her parents, so that she could be the one to fix him.

 

_ Just like Neville can fix me. _

 

Draco snorted. “I’m hoping Winky decides to plump the couch cushions at half seven,” he said, grinning wickedly.

 

Pansy laughed, before quickly turning her head to face the letter again. She and Draco had decided that Pansy would post it the next morning, early, thus getting the unpleasant task over and done with quickly. 

 

“Go to bed,” Draco instructed.

 

“I am,” Pansy decided, rising quickly. “I’m knackered,” she said, and as if her body had a wish to deliver clarification to her statement, she let out a big yawn. 

 

“Longbottom tire you out, did he?” Draco asked, smirking.

 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You’ll never know.”

 

“Like I’d want to,” Draco responded with a scoff, before he added, “You could tell him,” he nodded towards Theo’s sleeping form.

 

“I know,” Pansy said with a sigh, “it’s just that, with Neville-”

 

“Ugh, don’t call him  _ that, _ ” Draco interjected, he was now leaning against the open door, a look of disgruntlement now present on his face.

 

“It’s his name,” Pansy remarked with a roll of her eyes.

 

“You know I have been  _ more  _ than supportive of you and... _ him,  _ but that is where I draw the line.”

 

“You’re ridiculous, but fine, with  _ Longbottom,  _ fuck Draco I don’t know how to describe it, I need to _ protect _ it or something.”

 

“You need to protect Longbottom?”

 

“Not  _ that  _ exactly, I need to protect  _ me and Longbottom _ .”

 

Pansy expected the mocking retort that she no doubt entirely deserved. The words she had just spoken did  _ not  _ sound as though Pansy Parkinson should  _ ever  _ have uttered them, but the mocking did not arrive, instead Pansy was surprised to see Draco flash her a, albeit short lived, genuine smile.

 

“Merlin, Pans, what happened to you?”

 

_ Good question.  _ “I haven’t got a fucking clue,” she answered honestly. “All I know is that Longbottom has a lot to answer for.”

 

Draco laughed at her response. “He sure does, you sound like an absolute-”

 

“-don’t you fucking dare-”

 

“Hufflepuff!” Draco concluded, victoriously, and dodged out the door to avoid Pansy’s rapidly fired stinging hex. She narrowed her eyes as she listened to his laughter grow quieter the further he alighted up the staircase.

 

_ Dickhead.  _

 

* * *

 

 

Pansy awoke the following morning having had, surprisingly, a fairly lengthy and peaceful night’s sleep. It was early, earlier than she’d intended anyway, and one glance at her bedside clock informed her that it was only just after eight, which, considering it was now Saturday, seemed heinously early. 

 

She did, however, decide to get up, knowing that the longer she delayed the sending of the letter to Rabastan, the more anxious she would feel. At least once it had gone, it was gone, and she no longer had control over her decision. 

 

Pansy dressed silently, pairing her favourite dress - a lacy, yet still casual black number - with opaque tights and her well-worn beloved, biker-style boots. She coated her eyes in a thick layer of coal, and coloured her lips a deep burgundy. Pansy stepped back from her mirror in order to examine as much of her reflection as she could, and despite the knot in her stomach at the reality of what the letter she was about to send represented, she forced her mind onto other things, and actually felt fairly positive - about her appearance, at least. 

 

The walk to the West Tower of the castle, where the owlery was located, was deserted, and Pansy found herself climbing the final few steps of the tower relatively quickly. 

 

Theo had still been snoring in exactly the same position they’d left him in, hours earlier, and Pansy, after repeating Draco’s words from the previous night back to herself, decided that if Theo was still there once she returned, she would inform him of exactly who her current secret was, perhaps they could arrange something with Theo and Millicent. Merlin knows, they could all use the distraction that the teenage normality of going on some kind of double date provided, even if it only provided a very brief reprieve from the hellish nightmare that had become their reality. 

 

The owlery was located at the very top of the tower, the entirely stone room was one that Pansy had never been overly interested in spending much time in, it was drafty at the best of times, but right now, with winter now definitely upon them, the room was downright cold. It wasn’t an unpleasant chill, however, Pansy thought to herself as she alighted the last few steps, entering the cold, exposed area, her nose wrinkling slightly at the sight of a rather large rodent skeleton she was forced to dodge away from.

 

Pansy quickly located Ernest, Draco’s large and domineering Eagle Owl, who looked at the witch with his trademark scowl. Pansy had never quite worked out how Ernest always seemed to perfect a disapproving expression so well, but nevertheless she had become used to whatever judgement the owl was constantly inflicting upon her. 

 

Scanning the note to Rabastan once more, Pansy’s breathing quickly attempting to become erratic as she did. She paused, forcing her lungs to drink in the cool air, of which there currently was an abundance of, and focussed her attention on the tying of the parchment to Ernest’s leg, and brisk breeze that was battering her pale face, and...the footsteps.  _ Who the bloody hell is coming up here at this time? _

 

Pansy started, whoever the footsteps belonged to, was clearly approaching rapidly, no doubt a scared first year intent on getting themselves punished further by attempting to send a letter home at such an early time. Pansy shook her head,  _ she  _ knew it was no use, that there was always an Imperiused ministry official stationed in Hogsmeade, whose sole instruction consisted of summoning every owl that flew in and out of Hogwarts castle, and reading the correspondence they carried. 

 

Pansy sighed, fumbling with the twine she was using to tie to note to Ernest’s leg, all the while knowing that whoever was approaching, was doing so rapidly. The final result was shoddy, she could see that, the words  _ -stan Lestran-,  _ could be read up from Ernest’s foot, and the knot, although secure, was messy. Pansy wrinkled her nose, examining the second rate job she’d done of attaching the letter, and signalled for Ernest to hop onto her forearm. The owl dug his claws in just a tad deeper than Pansy knew was necessary; her arm sank at the added weight of the owl.  _ You fat arse, Ernest. _

 

“I need this to go to Rabastan Lestrange, okay? They know who you are in the village, so you shouldn’t be searched, and once you get there, give him a massive bite, will you?” Pansy snorted, picturing the scene, and then quickly changed her mind as she imagined Rabastan not taking too kindly to being bitten by a grumpy looking owl. “On second thought, maybe don’t-,”

 

“Rabastan Lestrange?” A familiar voice rang out from behind Pansy, and her heart stopped at the realisation of just  _ who  _ the footsteps had belonged to.  _ What are the bloody chances? _

 

“Is this a joke?” Neville cried, clearly seething, as Pansy whirled around, horrorstruck.

 

“Oh Merlin, Neville, listen, it’s not-”

 

“You’re writing to Rabastan Lestrange, what the  _ FUCK _ , Pansy?”

 

The words rang in the air as though they were reverberations from a cymbal. Neville very rarely swore, or shouted.

 

“I was wrong. I was totally, bloody wrong about you,” he spat, and the words cut through Pansy like a blade, although her hurt was beginning to lace itself with annoyance.

 

_ Now just hang on a minute.  _ “Excuse me?” Pansy haughtily replied, knowing full well that countering his tone was most likely  _ not  _ the best course of action to take, yet frankly not caring. “I  _ happen  _ to have a reputation-”

 

“Fuck your reputation! Rabastan Lestrange tortured my  _ parents,  _ Pansy, and here you are, casually writing to him like some pen pal, and all you can talk about is your  _ reputation, _ ” he sneered the last word so venomously that if he weren’t standing in front of her, Pansy would have swore the sound had never uttered itself from Neville’s mouth.

 

“I know that!” Pansy cried. “But you won’t let me finish, I can exp-”

 

“Explain? Oh, this should be good…”

 

_ Well, it might be, if you’d let me fucking talk! _

 

“...please do  _ explain _ , Pansy, why the girl i’m risking  _ everything  _ for, needs to write to my worst fucking enemy?”

 

“ _ You’re  _ risking everything?! You haven’t got a clue what  _ risking everything  _ means!” Pansy shrieked, knowing full well she’d regret the statement once their argument had settled. 

 

“Oh, really? Because precious Pansy is the only one risking her neck, of course, everyone bow down the  _ Queen Bi-” _

 

The silence that resonated from the slap was one unlike Pansy had heard before. Time seemed to stand still, not for the first time in Neville’s presence, but this was certainly the least enjoyable. 

 

_ Well, shit. _

 

“You hit me.”

 

“I did.”

 

Neville was panting heavily, his usually warm and comforting blue gaze was thunderous, and it killed Pansy to see.  She watched him swallow, his mouth opened, and subsequently closed a good three times before he spoke. 

 

“Please, tell me I wasn’t wrong,” he whispered, bringing his left hand up to rub his forehead, all malice aside.

 

“You weren’t wrong.”

 

“Then, why are you writing...to _ him _ ?”

 

Pansy swallowed, knowing the she had purposefully hid her past encounters with his parent’s torturers from Neville.

 

“Because he wants to meet me over Christmas; that note is declining his offer and informing him I have to stay here.”

 

“Why on Earth does he want to meet you?”

 

“I don’t know,” Pansy answered, honestly. “But I doubt it’s to go out for a cup of tea.”

 

“Pansy,” Neville rasped, his voice low.

 

“I know,” her eyes filling with tears at her name.

 

“What if? What if he doesn’t want to accept you declining his invitation?”

 

Pansy took a deep, steady breath, feeling, all of a sudden, as though the owlery floor was gradually spinning. “Draco says he’ll find a way to get me out... so Rabastan can’t find me.” She said the words shakily, yet firmly.

 

Neville’s eyebrows raised at her admission. He did not immediately speak, instead he crossed the three steps of ground separating the two, and softly wound his arms around her, encasing her in what was becoming her favourite place to be.

 

“If that has to happen,” Neville whispered, huskily, into her ear, “where would we go?”

 

* * *

 

The two had left the owlery not long after their embrace, a few kisses, and rushed whispered apologies.

 

“Why are you here?” Pansy had asked, as they began the descent down the stairs from the tower.

 

“Huh?” 

 

“In the owlery? Any owl you send would be searched, but I know you know that.”

 

“I do.”

 

“So, how come you came to the owlery?”

 

“Ah...I was...I come here on this date every year,” Neville replied, and Pansy felt his hand creep into her own. Glancing over at his face she saw a number of furrowed parallel lines had appeared upon his forehead. “I do usually send something, but even though I couldn’t today, it’s a nice place...to think.”

 

“Oh,” Pansy said, not entirely sure what to make of his explanation.

 

“Today is...my mum’s birthday.”

 

_ Shit. _

 

“Oh, Neville,” Pansy said, her heart sinking as the realisation of how awful she’d been to him on what was clearly such a sentimental day. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

 

“You couldn’t have known,” he replied, returning the squeeze her hand had given him.

 

“I know but...Gods, you didn’t need that. I slapped you for fucks sake!”

 

“You’ve got some force in that right arm of yours, my cheek is still stinging.”

 

“Way to make me feel worse,” she snorted. “Neville, I...I am sorry, about your mum, and…” she trailed off.

 

Neville stopped, pulling the hand that he had interlocked with Pansy’s up to his face. He held it to his mouth, and planted a single kiss atop the back of her palm.

 

“I think she would like you,” he said. “She was incredibly kind, but, I’ve heard she could be feisty, when she wanted.”

 

“She sounds great,” Pansy replied, honestly. “And fiesty is a great way to be,” she added with a laugh. “I hope she would like me.”

 

“Well, how could she not? You happen to make her son very happy.”

 

Pansy looked briefly to the corridor leading to either side of them, before reaching up and pulling his head towards hers.

 

“Come for breakfast?” she asked, entirely sure she was not ready for their usual, hasty goodbye.

 

“Are you sure that would be okay?”

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

“Won’t Malfoy mind?”

 

“You’ve been there before, drinking with us, remember?”

 

“I know, but that was before me and you properly... you know,  _ happened, _ and I know you and he have a... _ personal history -  _ I don’t want to intrude on the bloke’s living quarters too much.”

 

Pansy stopped, mid-stride, scrutinising Neville with narrowed eyes. “How very  _ Gryffindor  _ of you,” she quipped, mockingly.

 

“Comes with the territory,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

 

“He’s fine with it, in fact last night he said I was more than welcome to bring you back.”   
  


“That’s good of him,” Neville replied, as the pair began to continue their journey through the empty halls.

 

“His only condition was that we didn’t shag in his chair,” Pansy stated, matter-of-factly, smirking slightly at the coughing fit that was now erupting from Neville in response to her words.

 

* * *

 

“No way! No bloody way!” A hungover, yet suddenly excitable Theo was saying as he looked upon the face of Neville. “Longbottom?! Your secret boyfriend is  _ Longbottom _ ?”

 

“Take a seat,” Pansy directed towards Neville, ignoring Theo. “Winky?” she summoned, as she and Neville each took a seat on the couch, her between Neville and Theo, and Neville leaning against one of the arms.”   
  


Winky appeared within seconds, a wide, sly smile appearing on her face at the sight of not one, but two extra faces to serve.

 

“Yes, Miss Pansy, Winky is pleased you called, would you be liking some breakfast, Miss?”

 

“Yes, thank you Wi-” Pansy began, until the small elf cut her off mid-word.

 

“Oooh, has Miss Pansy’s mate been working up a big appetite, so early in the morning, Miss Pansy?” Winky asked, her eyes shining. At her words, both Theo and Neville let out simultaneous gasps, Theo’s followed by a cackling of laughter, whilst Neville’s with his second coughing fit of the morning.

 

“No, Winky, he has not, thank you very much,” Pansy snapped.

 

“Ah, was you the one doing the working, Miss? Is that the reason for the grump in your tone, Miss Pansy?”

 

At this, Theo positively howled as Neville let out a series of embarrassed grunts, and Pansy glared at the elf. “Some breakfast, if you  _ don’t  _ mind, Winky?”

 

“Not at all, not at all…” Winky replied, before busying herself towards the small kitchenette.

 

“Gods, I love that elf,” Theo stated, happily. “So, Longbottom, how long have you been Pansy’s mate, then?”

 

“Good Godric,” Pansy heard Neville sigh from her left.

 

At that moment, the door Winky had departed through opened, and a bleary-eyed Draco emerged, rubbing the palm of his right hand into his left eye socket. 

 

“Alright, mate?” Theo said, over his shoulder.

 

“Not too bad,” Draco responded, before he clocked on to the third body currently occupying his couch. “Morning, Longbottom.”

 

“Malfoy,” Neville greeted. Pansy could feel him begin to relax, and she was momentarily taken aback to feel his arm reach around to rest gently upon her shoulders. She shuffled herself slightly, pressing into him, leaning her head back against his arm. An unnerving, and unusual feeling washed over her, which took her far longer than it would most to realise that the feeling may just be an odd, and no doubt short lived, contentment. 


	24. A Very Different Kettle of Squid

In the weeks that followed their first _ meeting  _ in Pansy and Draco’s living room, Neville and Theo had struck up a rather odd, but firm, friendship. Having another person close to Pansy that he could trust seemed to have a positive effect on Neville, and whilst he was still suffering torture, and now the Carrows had began regular interrogations, his demeanor had somewhat relaxed even in his darkest moments under the Unforgivable Curse that Alecto flung at him.

 

Theo himself, had nothing but admiration for the boy he had, at one point, basically bullied. 

 

“Mate, you are hardcore,” Theo had stated one day as he and Neville sat on the couch in the head quarters. Winky was busying herself rubbing a salve along the shoulder of a shirtless Neville, who, this week, had endured not just his usual Cruciatus, but had been forced to fight his way away from some kind dagger that Alecto had thrust into the flesh of the Gryffindor’s upper arm during a particularly strenuous lesson. 

 

“Cheers,” Neville replied through gritted teeth.

 

“She  _ really  _ hates you, doesn’t she.” It was phrased as such, yet Pansy knew it wasn’t a question. Her mouth was dry as she stood, watching her House Elf attend to her boyfriend’s latest wound, a sickening feeling of dread was beginning to mount in her chest as she watched Neville’s grimace. 

 

_ Where would we go? _

 

Truth be told, Pansy hadn’t taken his words seriously at the time. The whole notion of leaving Hogwarts seeming absolutely absurd, but her growing anxiety that came from the lack of reply from Rabastan, and the sickening worry that next time it may not be Neville’s shoulder that Alecto felt like stabbing, was forcing her mind to wander to the possibility. 

 

_ But… where  _ could  _ we go? _

 

“I’m not her favourite person, no,” Neville said, answering Theo’s statement; his words were laced with a hiss of pain, his face had scrunched itself up as Winky finished.

 

“It should heal well, Mr Neville,” the elf piped up. She patted Neville’s arm affectionately before beginning to gather up the first aid supplies she had used. Pansy wasn’t entirely sure when exactly Winky had began to refer to Neville as anything other than  _ Miss Pansy’s mate,  _ but the change had been a welcome one.

 

“Thank you, Winky,” Neville said as he tentatively tested his shoulder joint, flexing his arm at a number of different angles.

 

Pansy had rushed to fill the empty space that the elf had occupied, still remaining uncharacteristically silent. Neville’s eyes met hers, his left arm - his _injured arm_ - began to rise, presumably to rest on Pansy’s own shoulders, but with a jolt and a gasp of pain, he settled on placing his hand protectively atop Pansy’s right leg, fingertips tracing small nondescript patterns just above her knee.

 

The movements had an instant calming effect on Pansy, something that made her feel a sense of selfishness.  _ I should be the one comforting him.  _ Biting her lip, Pansy swallowed, before turning her head to face Neville. He in turn, looked back at her,, his blue eyes searching hers intently.

 

“How...how does it feel?” Pansy asked.  _ Ugh, Pansy. You’re crap. _

 

“Bit better,” Neville replied, “you okay?”

 

_ You were stabbed, of course I’m not okay!  _ “I suppose.”

 

Neville frowned, but did not pursue the matter further, and Pansy was almost glad when Winky interrupted their conversation, “Miss Pansy, with your permission, I believe it will be better if Mr Neville stays here tonight. This balm is elf-made, and the healing charm contained within it works better if an elf administers it. Winky can check on Mr Neville easier this way, Miss, and Winky can have Dobby inform Mr Neville’s friends he is safe and being tended to.”

 

Pansy’s heart began to hammer fast at Winky’s words.  _ Neville... Stay here? _

Neville’s fingers wrapped themselves around the bottom of Pansy’s thigh, before he turned back to her. She had expected him to politely decline, say it was too suspicious, that it was too dangerous, what she hadn’t banked on, was him directing his answer onto her.

 

“Would that be okay?”

 

_ Neville… staying here...in my bed.  _

 

“Yeah, of course,” Pansy heard her own voice answer him back. 

 

* * *

 

The afternoon had rolled into evening and before long Pansy, Neville,Theo and Draco had been joined by Millicent, Daphne and Blaise. Daphne had, of course, known about all the developments between Pansy and Neville and had showed a vibrant enthusiasm of her approval of the couple, and had wasted no time in talking to Neville at great length, feeling it was her role as Pansy’s best friend, to befriend her current suitor. 

 

Blaise had maintained a quiet, yet dignified stance on the newest addition to their friendship group. He did not speak to Neville much, but then, Pansy had mused, Blaise didn’t tend to speak to anyone very much. Even throughout their younger school years, the mysterious Zabini boy had often kept to himself, immersing his interests in books and studies. In fact, it was only when Daphne starting showering him with more attention, originally at the beginning of sixth year, which had the added complication that Daphne had indeed been sleeping with Theo at the time, did Blaise really begin to open himself up to them. 

 

It was Millicent, as surprising and saddening as it was to her, considering they’d been staunch friends for six years, that worried Pansy. After Theo had confessed his fears of Millicent’s conflictions, Pansy had, just as she’d said she would, spoke to her friend. She tried three times, none of which went particularly well. 

 

The first had involved Pansy charming away Millicent’s tears, and the second had involved the exact opposite and Millicent pleading with Pansy not to press that matter further. 

 

Unfortunately, having reached no conclusion, Pansy felt no option but to do exactly that. 

 

_ “Just spit it out Pansy,” Millicent snapped, and Pansy felt herself actually recoil a touch at the tone of Millicent’s voice.  _

 

_ “I just wanted to know...that you’re okay,” Pansy answered quietly. Truth be told, her initial instinct after overcoming the shock at how Millicent had spoke to her was to snap right back and inform Millicent that she needn’t be a cow. However, she knew that tact, right now at least, was needed.  _

 

_ Millicent had looked her straight in the eyes as she replied. “You can’t honestly believe you’ll survive this if you don’t join him.”  _

 

_ She didn’t wait to hear Pansy’s response, simply opting to turn on the ball of her foot and storm away from the head girl.  _

 

She opted not to try for a fourth time, throwing a swift  _ sorry  _ and sympathetic glance at Theo, who had shrugged and offered Pansy a grateful smile. 

 

As they sat in Pansy and Draco’s living room, Pansy couldn’t help but avoid Millicent’s eyes. She had, at least, offered Neville the smallest hint of a smile, and didn’t seem obviously opposed to his presence,  _ which is something,  _ Pansy thought to herself. 

 

“Draco,  _ please  _ tell me that you, of all people, have more firewhisky than  _ this, _ ” Daphne was saying. She held an almost empty bottle in her left hand and an accusing expression upon her face.

 

Draco scoffed, “Of course not, what do you take me for, Greengrass?”

 

“Our resident alcoholic?” Daphne answered brightly, which elicited her a snort of laughter from everyone present except Pansy, who hadn’t found Draco’s drinking habits amusing in any way for weeks.

 

“Check the kitchen,” Draco said, slinging his left leg over the arm of his chair, casually, as he leaned back into the soft fabric.

 

Blaise sat similarly, in an identical chair to Draco’s. They had magically duplicated it, providing Blaise and Daphne, who rarely took up two separate seats in any setting, could occupy. 

 

Theo and Millicent were sitting together at one end of the sofa,  the former fiddling with a packet of Muggle cigarettes. The space next to him was filled with Neville’s right leg and Pansy’s feet; the rest of Neville was sharing the end space with the rest of Pansy, who was taking up less space than she usually would, on account of her having positioned herself sideways, her legs cast over the rest of the lap she was currently sitting in.

 

It still felt strange to be this comfortable with Neville, especially amongst the rest of her friends. Although Pansy wasn’t sure if it was the proximity that felt so obscure, or the very fact that the rest of the group had been so accepting of her relationship with someone they had all, at one point or another, taunted. Another example, Pansy realised, of how much Neville had grown, not just physically - although his impressive height definitely made him seem more imposing - but mentally as well. 

 

A surge of pride rose through Pansy at her analysis of him, and she leant into him further, pressing her side into his torso and resting the side of her face on his firm chest. His right hand had found its way to the place just above her knee that he had run his fingertips over earlier, and began the action once more. The relaxing rhythm of this movement, combined with the way she could just feel his heartbeat against her cheek, filled Pansy with a nervous excitement for whatever awaited the pair later in the evening.  _ When he stays...in my bed.  _

 

“One for you, and you, and -” Daphne’s voice rang out loud, wrenching Pansy from her momentary contemplation. She looked up, hearing Neville thank Daphne for the glass that was now firmly in his grasp. “Oh Pans,  _ look  _ at you, you’re both so-”

 

“-Daphne, you better not be about to say what I think you’re about to say-”

 

“-cute!” Daphne finished, triumphantly, ignoring Pansy’s interruption. 

 

“Give me my drink,” Pansy snapped, wishing furiously that she was immune to the red hue that had taken over her cheeks at her best friend’s words, only made worse by the outpour of laughter that had erupted from both Theo and Draco at her words. Even the corner of Blaise’s mouth had lifted and Millicent was openly giggling, and, she realised after a quick glance, that even Neville’s face was covered with a wide, annoying grin.  _ I’m surrounded by idiots. _

 

The sweet smile that Daphne presented her with annoyed Pansy more, and so she accepted her glass of whisky with a snatch and a glare, that only seemed to make Daphne look more chipper. 

 

“So, Neville,” Daphne began, which forced some of Pansy’s annoyance to ebb away. The fact that Daphne had began to refer to Neville by his first name was something Pansy found rather amusing, considering she herself still had a hard time referring to him as anything other than  _ Longbottom _ sometimes. “Have we managed to change your opinion of Slytherins?”

 

“Definitely,” Neville answered, his voice lighthearted. Pansy felt his other hand, the one that stretched around her back, gently touch the nape of her neck.

 

“Good,” Daphne concluded, giggling as she and Neville clinked their glasses together. She walked around the coffee table, delivering Draco and Blaise their drinks and deposited herself on Blaise’s lap, where she curled herself up, reminding Pansy of the way a cat circles gracefully before lying down. Daphne’s sparkling blue eyes found Pansy’s stare and she shot her friend a bright smile, which Pansy returned with a small upturning of the corners of her mouth. She leaned into Neville again, noticing the way her stomach seemed to flip flop at the soft kiss he planted on her forehead. 

 

The evening passed quickly and pleasantly. The Christmas holidays were approaching rapidly and Draco, Daphne, Millicent Blaise and Theo would all be returning home for the break. Pansy, of course, had to stay at Hogwarts to avoid Rabastan. Neville was remaining, he informed them, as his family were now in hiding and there was no feasible way for them to get a message to him to reveal their whereabouts. 

 

“Well, Pans, at least you’ll have some,” Theo began, nudging Pansy’s foot playfully with his elbow, “good company, eh?” he finished with an over exaggerated wink before beginning to talk animatedly, whilst Millicent excused herself to visit the bathroom, over his plan to surprise her on the train ride back to London.

 

“I’m thinking  _ chocolate-covered fruit,  _ a private compartment, and a  _ personalised _ ,” Theo pointed both his thumbs backwards, gesturing to himself, “butler service.”

 

“Theo, that is crap,” Draco informed his friend.  _ You aren’t wrong there,  _ Pansy mused to herself in amusement.

 

“Wait, you haven’t heard the best part… it’s a  _ naked  _ butler service,” Theo finished triumphantly.

 

Everyone present had burst out laughing at Theo’s words. Blaise and Draco shook their heads whilst Daphne and Pansy stifled giggles behind balled up fists.

 

Neville patted Theo’s shoulder, before saying, between laughs, “I’m sure she’ll love that,” making Theo grin, triumphantly. 

 

“Longbottom,” Draco called out, a humourous snap to his tone, “don’t fucking encourage him!”

 

“Encourage who?” Millicent’s voice piped up from the door as the brunette witch walked back towards the couch. 

 

“Noone!” rang the collective answer of six voices, much to, if the raising of her eyebrows were anything to go by, Millicent’s suspicion. 

 

Pansy offered Millicent a soft smile and was relieved when it was reciprocated. 

 

_ Stay with us, Mills.  _

 

* * *

 

 

“Tonight was fun,” Neville said, setting down his glass on the coffee table rather shakily, his numerous top ups having clearly had a profound effect on his senses. 

 

Pansy watched the way he seemed to sway as he sat back in his seat. “Yeah, it was,” Pansy answered. She stood at the edge of the couch, having just seen their other four friends off at the door. She ran her hands through her hair, and covered the yawn she couldn’t help but let out with her palm. Looking downwards, she was somewhat surprised to see that Neville was watching her.  _ Oh, you look cute with drunk eyes. _

 

“Right, I’m going to bed,” Draco said, arising from his chair, his tolerance for the firewhisky was the highest out of the friends, and he therefore remained the closest to sober. “Remember,” he added, pointing to Pansy and Neville in turn, “silencing charm, please.”

 

Neville let out a bark of a laugh, whilst Pansy narrowed her eyes at Draco, watching him walk through the rear door. 

 

“Come here,” Neville said, and Pansy realised while she was watching Draco leave, Neville must have began to watch her again.    
  
Biting her bottom lip and feigning and intense look of worry, she asked coyly, “Are you sure your shoulder doesn’t need to rest?” 

 

“It’ll survive,” he replied, and Pansy could  _ feel  _ the desire in his eyes as they drifted up and down her body. 

 

She looked down at him, his hand reaching towards hers and she automatically took it, allowing herself to be pulled downwards, so that she was on top of him once more, her legs again splayed over his: only this time…

 

_ We’re alone. _

 

Pansy had never considered the prospect of feeling any sense of nervousness when it came to acts of intimacy, she had only ever  _ been  _ with Draco, but that had ended up transcending years of her life, and had involved several bouts of experimentation, until both felt as sexually experienced as they needed to be.

 

Now, however, she wasn’t with Draco, she was with Neville. And Neville, was a very different kettle of squid. 

 

Never before had Pansy felt such a need to impress, she didn’t know why, exactly, but she did know that Neville was infatuated with her - just as she was with him - even though she was aware, logically speaking, that he, as a hot-blooded male if nothing else, would enjoy any night they shared together immensely and yet still she felt an intense pressure to impress him. 

 

It was an altogether new feeling. Pansy Parkinson, as a rule, did not go out of her way to impress  _ anyone _ . 

 

Choosing, from her very first year at Hogwarts, that if Pansy had to put up with being treated like a second class citizen in what is supposed to be the safety of her home, at school, everyone would know that here, she was the one who was  _ first _ class. And so, Pansy conducted herself as such in every aspect of her life at Hogwarts, navigating all the different pieces of her world, and self, with such precise handling that, by third year, Pansy Parkinson was already an expert manipulator, pulling the strings of her life so effortlessly, that control, in one way or another, was second nature.

 

_ Until now,  _ Pansy realised with a gulp,  _ it was all for nothing. With him, I can barely control myself, let alone anyone else. _

 

Pansy felt Neville’s firm hand caress the side of her neck for a small second before he began to kiss her. It was unlike any way they had kissed previously when the kiss itself was the end game. Never before had there been the promise of more.  _ This tim _ e, Pansy realised in a shiver of nervous excitement,  _ the kiss is only the beginning _ .

 

The prospect of anything sexual, Pansy was starting to somehow realise despite the prominent haze that was taking over her brain as Neville deepened their kiss, was entirely different when it involved the feelings she had for him.

 

His hand had moved upwards and Pansy felt his fingers wind themselves gently around strands of her hair, tantalisingly rubbing her scalp as his tongue simultaneously massaged her own.

 

As though her body was acting entirely of its own volition, Pansy found herself sitting up, moving her leg back slightly and over. She swivelled her body around so she faced Neville straight on, finally planting her leg next to Neville’s side, so the Gryffindor was straddled beneath her.  _ Right...where I want you. _

 

Neville let out a low groan as his hands left her head, and began to make their way down Pansy’s back. He was gentle at first, but his touch grew steadily firmer as Pansy began to rhythmically shift her hips back and forth, an alcohol-induced confidence overshadowing her nervous disposition as the friction caused by the folded crease in the crotch of Neville’s trousers - which was accompanied by a certain something that Pansy was confident was not caused by any fabric creasing - was providing her with a new and welcome pounding of desire.

 

Drawing back from him, Pansy realised she was panting, and considering Neville’s ever-wandering hands were now situated on the tops of her thighs, it didn’t take much logic to dictate what direction they were heading towards.

 

Having no desire to continue the scenario on the couch, Pansy looked down at him. “Come to bed?” she asked, a sly smile tugged at the sides of her mouth as she stood up, not waiting for the response she already knew the answer to, and held her hand out to Neville.

 

He accepted her outstretched hand with a smile of his own, and stood leaning down to plant a brief, lingering kiss upon Pansy’s lips. He allowed her to lead him, his hand still grasped within hers, through the rear door, down the adjacent corridor, up the stairs and eventually, to the private confines of her bedroom. 

 


	25. Kiss Me

His hand was still firmly grasped in her own as they entered the bedroom,  _her bedroom._ She hadn't looked at him since just before they left the couch, and for some reason unbeknownst to Pansy, she was having trouble finding the courage to turn herself around and face him.

As they approached the double bed, Pansy realised their pace had slowed. She waved her wand at the lamp on her bedside table, the flame of the candle casting an atmospheric glow over the bedroom. She crossed the remainder of the room with small, tentative steps.

 _End of the line, now you have to face him,_ she thought to herself, cursing the unfortunate absence of her characteristic Pansy-poise that she was usually able to exert in droves - even in times she felt very little genuine confidence.

Except, of course, right now, when it would come in the most handy.  _Bugger._

She had stopped when both her knees touched the bed, and somehow Neville's hand was no longer in hers, though she didn't quite remember letting it go.

Unsure whether she heard him take a step slightly closer to her, or whether she simply  _felt_ his presence move closer to her back, Pansy didn't know. What she  _did_ know was that Neville's hands were, all of a sudden, resting lightly on the tops of her shoulders, so close she could hear him breathing somewhere just above the top of her head.

Swallowing, Pansy felt his strong, yet still tender grip gently guide her backwards. She closed her eyes as her back made contact with Neville's stomach, at the same time his lips made contact with the side of her neck.

Breathing deeply, Pansy tentatively pushed herself backwards into him, as Neville's strong arms moved down from their current position to wrap themselves around her midriff. He trailed a line of kisses towards her ear. "You okay?" he whispered.

"Mmhmm," Pansy replied. She placed her own arms on top of his, palms seeking out the backs of his hands, so that she could lace her fingers through his whilst he held her to him.

"You sure? Your hands are shaking," Neville said, pulling her closer to him as he did.  _Pansy, pull yourself together!_

"I'm fine."  _Shit answer._

"Okay," he replied, and Pansy was grateful he didn't seem to wish to continue his line of questioning. "Turn around," he said, quietly.

And she did.

She did so slowly, marvelling slightly at the way he managed to keep her encased within his strong arms as she moved.

An odd sense of comfort washed over her as she found her face pressed into Neville's chest. Somehow, in this strange and twisted excuse for her final year of their Hogwarts' education, breathing in Neville Longbottom had become Pansy's refuge, whilst there were many things that Pansy considered  _home,_ ironically none of them including her actual home, it was in Neville's arms that she had found a true feeling of contentment.

In his arms,  _her heart_  had found home.

Wrapping her own arms around his torso, Pansy ran her fingertips along Neville's back, becoming more sure of herself with every movement she made.

He let out a low, throaty groan at her actions as he instantaneously began to run his own hands over Pansy's back, over her shoulder blades; his right hand came to a halt behind Pansy's neck whilst the other ventured back downwards, pausing briefly at the point where her shirt met the top of her skirt. He pushed his palm even lower, gently cupping her round behind.

The action, whilst small, seemed to break the small amount of tension within her, that Pansy had been trying hard to ignore, and she found herself in a small bout of accidental giggles.

"What?" Neville said, pulling back, clearly alarmed.

"Nothing," Pansy said, smiling, "your hand was...on my arse."

"Is that...bad? Do you not...like-"

_Oh, Merlin._

"-oh, no! No, Neville, I do, it's just..." It was Pansy's turn to struggle to get her words out. "I was...all nervous and...then your hand...my arse...made me laugh, and I don't feel...that nervous...anymore."

_Holy Hellsnakes, that was dire. Pansy, sort yourself out._

Pansy watched as Neville blinked slowly at her words, their arms were still fixed firmly around each other, but there was more space between them now.  _Shit shit shit!_

"Okay," Neville replied, elongating the  _a_  sound to add to his clear perplexity, "well, that's good, I  _think,_ I thought I'd done something terrible."

"How could you putting your hand on my bum be terrible?"

At her words, Pansy was shocked to see Neville's cheeks take on a deep, red hue. "Well," he began, with a look upon his face that suggested he was having trouble speaking the words, "I don't exactly have a lot...of experience."

"Oh."

"Merlin," Neville sighed, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Pansy asked, genuinely curious as to why he was apologising to her.

"For not being...what you...deserve," he said, not meeting the eyes she had raised to his face.

 _Are you joking?!_ "You...not be...what  _I_  deserve?"

Neville looked positively crestfallen. "Do you want me to go?"

 _What?_ "Why would I want that?"

He shrugged, dropping his arms from around her, his feet shuffling awkwardly. "I was stupid to think that a girl as beautiful as you could ever truly want," he gestured downwards himself, "this."

"I  _do_ want you!" Pansy cried, mentally forcing away her embarrassment. "And how can you possibly think that  _you're_ not good enough for me? Have you  _met_ us?"

Neville didn't say anything, however his gaze did meet hers properly once more, something Pansy was grateful for as his blue iris' gave her a piercing look that Pansy sensed somehow was a queue for her to continue.

"I'm  _Pansy Parkinson,_ " she said, and with a sigh she cautiously took a few careful steps backwards. Feeling for the edge of her bed to meet her legs, Pansy sunk onto the covers when they did. Pansy continued, her face dropping southwards to the clenched hands that were perched upon her lap, "I'm in almost as deep as you can be,  _every_ part of my life, my family, is  _bad._ "

Neville cleared his throat, and took one step closer to bed. " _You_ aren't bad, Pansy." His voice was quiet and controlled, though Pansy half expected it to waver with emotion at any second.

"Maybe not, but I'm not like you," she mumbled, embarrassed.

"Can I sit?" he queried, gesturing to the empty space on Pansy's left.

"Of course."

Pansy felt the mattress contort slightly as the weight of Neville was added to her own.

"Why aren't you bad?" he asked.

"What?"

"Well, wouldn't it be easier to just...be one of them?"

"Obviously it would be easier, but I'm not an evil shit that enjoys torturing children, and murdering innocent people, am I?" Pansy answered, her defensive tone far harsher than she had intended.

_What does that have to do with anything?_

"Exactly."

"That doesn't-"

"-you're basically a spy, you know that, right? You're willing to fight for the Light when almost everything in your life is screaming at you to fight for the Dark, it's...it's brave, almost...reckless."

"Ugh, stop that! You're making me sound like a Gryffindor."

He nudged her playfully, and Pansy was glad to see that his uneasiness seemed to be leaving him. "I think...Pansy Parkinson wouldn't have done too bad in Gryffindor."

"You take that-"

The rest of her sentence was interrupted by Neville's lips.

Pansy was, at first, incredulous, and then briefly annoyed, before Neville's hand found her jaw, reeling her in, closer to him as his mouth moved harmoniously against hers. Her conscious ignored every semblance of their night's momentary blip, and felt nothing but her want and need of him once more.

She busied her hands with the pleasurable task of running over Neville's stomach, and even over his shirt she could feel the impressive indentations that hinted at the expanse of muscle that his torso housed. She felt his breath falter momentarily as she bravely buried her right fingers beneath his shirt, finding her way to his bare stomach. Beneath, even from a seated position, Pansy marvelled his stomach still felt remarkable.  _It's mine,_  she thought with the faintest ghost of a smile,  _he_ was hers.

The majority of her nerves and the entirety of her flukey outburst of laughter - that she would no doubt kick herself for later - was gone. Instead, Pansy finally found herself with nothing more than a deliciously comfortable craving for his body to be on top of hers,  _preferably sans clothes,_  she decided as Neville gave the spot of her neck he had began to kiss, a small nip.

Pansy began to lie backwards, locking her hands together behind Neville's head as she did, meaning he had no choice but to move with her, something, she realised with an inward pulse of satisfaction, he showed no hesitation to do. Her legs were still hanging from the edge of the bed, and so Pansy leant up, back on her elbows, and began to seductively snake her way backwards. She heard his shoes being kicked off and then Neville met everyone of her movements perfectly, crawling over her, his body poised effortlessly above her, crouched like a large cat waiting to pounce upon its prey.

Their lips did not miss a beat, despite their continuous movements and before long Pansy had positioned them with her head now resting upon her pillow, the heated pressure of Neville's frame now pressed enticingly into her.

She found her hands beginning to move over his form again, the tips of her fingers grazing the skin at the base of his back. She nudged the annoyance that was his shirt further up his body, before making the impromptu, split-second decision that said shirt had now entirely served its purpose for the time being. Pansy moved her hands to Neville's chest, and pressed her palms firmly against him. Neville stopped the kisses his mouth had been currently attacking hers with and looked at her, his puzzled expression laced with a trace of worry.

Pansy smiled, feigning coyness, before she delicately dragged her fingernails over Neville's chest to where the topmost button of his shirt was located. She slowly, and agonisingly carefully, undid the button, before moving onto the next at a tantalisingly slow pace.

Neville flashed her a wide grin, his eyes staring into hers as she worked her way down the line of buttons of his shirt before eventually the garment flopped open entirely. He sat back on his heels and allowed Pansy, who had also sat herself upright, to remove the piece it entirely. Wincing briefly as it passed over his wounded shoulder, Neville watched as Pansy hastily tossed the shirt onto the floor.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, nodding towards his shoulder.

Neville shrugged, and then instantly looked as though he regretted the action. "You won't think I'm any less tough if I say yes, will you?"

"Of course I will," she said with a smirk and an obviously false tone of indignation, "if you say yes, I'll send you packing right now."

"Doesn't hurt at all," Neville countered, earning him a snort of laughter from Pansy as she leaned back against her pillow. Following suit, Neville twisted himself to the right and lay down facing her. He propped himself up on his good shoulder, and rested his hand on her stomach whilst his other found a way to play with a lock of her hair.

"I love your laugh," he said, tracing the hem at the bottom of Pansy's own shirt, his deft fingers running over the small portion of her midriff that was visible.

"I  _hate_ my laugh," Pansy said, realising with a surprise that she had never admitted that truth out loud before. "I like yours, though."

"Hmmm," Neville breathed into the side of her temple as he planted a short series of kisses along the side of her head.

"That feels nice," Pansy whispered, and Neville moved the focus of his lips down towards her jaw line as the intensity of his fingers trailing along her stomach increased.

" _You_ feel nice," she heard him murmur as he placed more kisses near her ear, before positioning himself slightly further down on the bed, enabling him a better position in which to focus his attentions to her neck.

She moved her hand up to meet his shoulder. It was his bad one, and so was particularly careful not to jar him as she traced her fingers up towards his neck, pulling him as close to her as she dared, knowing that any movement could be causing him more pain.

Luckily, he seemed to either not feel very much at her touch, or perhaps a more logical explanation was that he was entirely hell-bent on ignoring any discomfort he may be currently in.

His left hand had still not left her stomach, and Pansy now felt it begin to creep up towards, she realised a second later, her lowermost button. The button came undone with an almost expert precision, and Pansy let out a small moan from her throat as she felt him move onto the next.

"Is this okay?" he asked in a whisper, between kisses.  _Oh, Gods, you never have to ask that._

"Fair's fair," she replied, caressing the back of Neville's neck, a sly smile present upon her face as she felt the second button pop out as easily as the first.

His hand quickly undid the remainder of her shirt's buttons, and Pansy couldn't help but grin at the look of pure lust that was evident on Neville's face. She deftly removed the shirt from her torso, and flung it haphazardly in the same direction she had cast his, and rested back against the pillows with only a plunging, black bra -  _thankfully is one of my nicer ones_ \- covering her almost naked chest.

"Oh, woah," she heard Neville whisper aloud as he watched her chest softly rise and fall with her breaths. "Oh... I... err, can you pretend you didn't hear me say that?" he added, clearly embarrassed.

 _Merlin, no!_ "I make no promises," Pansy replied, secretly thrilled she'd elicited such a reaction from him.

Neville snorted, his eyes still entirely upon her scantily clad breasts, and Pansy could feel the hardening evidence of his arousal resting against her leg.

"Neville," she whispered, placing a finger beneath his chin, all but forcing his gaze to meet hers, amused at the ever so slight look of disgruntlement that briefly crossed his face as his eyes wrenched themselves away from her chest.

"Mmm?"

Pansy did not answer right away, instead she gently - still very aware of his hurt shoulder - pushed the pads of her fingers into his chest, enabling her to roll him onto his back The knowledge that he was probably now a lot more nervous than she was, he had mentioned not having much experience, and Pansy could not recall ever knowing that he had had any girlfriends, the main conclusion she drew was that his confession should be taken very literally, and she made herself to take the lead.

Once Neville was positioned on his back, just as she had been moments before, Pansy propelled herself over him until she was straddling his crotch with her own. The hardness she had felt against her thigh before now resided beneath her, where she was able to feel it teasingly beneath the already damp fabric of her underwear.

"If you don't mind," she began, huskily, "this bra is awfully uncomfortable. I think I'll have to take it off."

Pansy smirked as she contemplated whether it was at all possible for Neville's eyes to actually shoot out of his head. He placed a hand on the side of her waist and looked at her as though she was the only girl in the world, Pansy realised with a blush.

"You're far too gorgeous to be uncomfortable," he replied. His voice was steady, and yet Pansy could sense the excitement he was clearly attempting to conceal.

Pansy didn't reply. Instead, she acted, and ran her hands up her back until she felt the familiar clasp of her bra. Quickly undoing it, she then ripped it from her body before she had a chance to second guess whether she was quite this confident.  _Oh Gods, my boobs are loose!_

Pansy felt his erection twitch beneath her, which sent an electric pulse of pleasure to her most sensitive area. They simultaneously moaned after the small movement.

"You are perfect," Neville said from beneath her. His voice sounded breathless.

She looked down at him, the nerves that had crept back over her at the removal of her bra were beginning to dissipate from the way he looked at her - with greed and hunger - yet, there was something else entirely that was present in his eyes.

_Lo-_

"Kiss me," he said, snatching her thoughts away as quick as they had surfaced.

"Okay," she answered, not needing to be told twice as she pressed her entire body onto his. Her mouth found his, a sense of wholeness spreading through her as his lips moved against hers and an array of thrilling bouts of pleasure erupted from the way his hands made her feel as they began to explore her breasts, combined with the building friction that was now present, as she shifted her most sensitive spot over the tip of his erection.

_Oh, I'm so glad you stayed here tonight._


	26. Frozen Flame

Never before had Pansy considered the possibility that she’d be the type of girl to enjoy waking up next to a boy who had slept soundly next to her with one arm draped casually over her midriff. The unfamiliar feeling of his arm gently pressing down on her stomach had caused Pansy to jolt awake no less than on three separate instances throughout the night, but yet here she was lying, relishing in the way his mostly naked skin felt against her own. More often than not, Pansy would choose cold over warm, chilly over sunny, but the warmth that radiated from Neville was something new, something addicting...just as addicting as the rest of him. Pressing into the comforting heat as much as she could, Pansy wondered just how it was possible that they seemed to just  _ fit  _ together with a perfection so strong...so  _ perfect,  _ it was almost aching.

 

_ An aching perfection.  _ The thought bounced in time with her heartbeat.

 

Neville’s injury, along with his whisky and pain potion concoction, combined with the intense physical workout Pansy had no doubt put him through had clearly taken an exhausting toll on the Gryffindor, who, as far as she could tell, had barely stirred all night. 

 

The memory of the previous night gave her a high unlike any other, a high she never wished to lose. This,  _ them...us.  _

 

This time the thought felt as though it  _ was  _ her heartbeat.

 

* * *

 

_ She’d taken off her bra, Pansy remembered, and judging by the fact that she was still very much topless, she hadn’t felt a need to put it back on. He’d looked at her with pure longing, before kissing her again. _

 

_ The kisses had grown more desperate, more passionate. After Pansy’s bra was discarded, she had found her hands wandering down his stomach; she had sat up straddling him once more, seductively undoing the buttons that lay on the crotch of his trousers. He’d slowly propped himself on the elbow of his uninjured arm and watched her, Gods, she’d loved how he watched her. _

 

_ She recalled with a smirk how he gasped when her fingers first gently grazed his length. She hadn’t removed his underwear, and she had made a point of making her touches as light as possible, teasing him through the fabric - an impressive tight black pair of shorts if she recalled correctly - a few more times, before she’d let out a high pitched yelp of surprise as she found his arms grasping the tops of her arms. He’d yanked her downwards until her face was mere centimeters away from his. _

 

_ “You are a tease,” he had informed her, pointless really she thought; Pansy knew very well that she was a tease, in fact, she positively thrived on it.  _

 

_ His hands had left their position gripped around her arms, and began to run down the sides of her body with long, determined strokes that had sent shivers over Pansy to all the right places, until they met the fabric at the hem of her skirt. _

 

_ “This needs to go,” he had murmured, his voice somewhat strangled, as though a part of it had been discarded with his clothes, as his fingertips gently tugged at the black garment, “it has outstayed its welcome.” _

 

_ She had kissed him in reply. Looking back she wasn’t entirely sure why, a witty comeback would have been far more appropriate for her, but nonetheless she had pressed her mouth down against his and pushed her tongue roughy into his mouth, unable to stop her hips sashaying against his, the friction the movement caused very much needed. _

 

* * *

 

Back in the present, Pansy was busying herself by stroking the arm that Neville had placed over her last night gently with the tips of her fingers. The movement caused the tiniest of stirs within him. 

 

_ Oh good,  _ Pansy thought, now rather keen to involve Neville in her reminiscing.

 

She heard him sigh deeply, though he did not wake, to Pansy’s slight annoyance. She laced her fingers through his own, though his hands were much less responsive than they had been the previous night. Fumbled, was probably the most apt term, that’s what they’d done with her skirt anyway, Pansy recalled with a soft smile. His injured shoulder had no doubt played a part in his utter lack of the coordination it took to remove the article of clothing, but Pansy had found it rather endearing, nonetheless. 

 

Eventually, he had managed to wiggle the fabric over her behind, enabling her to pull the skirt the remainder of the way down her legs. She’d sat up once more, now almost entirely naked, with only a small scrap of black lacy fabric separating her from being entirely exposed. 

 

Somehow, she hadn’t felt as vulnerable as she would have imagined,  and she gripped his hand tighter still at the realisation of how he made her so comfortable, even in their most intimate moments. 

 

Neville stirred properly now, and Pansy found herself burrowing further beneath her cosy duvet, cuddling as close to him as she could. She could  _ hear  _ Draco’s mocking tone in her mind.  _ Cuddling, Pansy - really?  _ But she cared not. Cuddling with Neville, she was discovering, was a most alluring pastime. A small groan emanated from her side and Pansy turned her head to face him, where a pair of familiar, slightly bleary, blue eyes were blinking back at her.

 

“Morning,” she said, brightly. The tone sounded foreign coming from her mouth, Pansy rarely sounded bright at any time of day, let alone first thing in the morning.

 

_ Gods, what has he turned me into? _

 

“Mmm hey,” he replied, his voice deep and croaky, and obviously not quite ready to meet the day. The tired sound made Pansy smile again, and then more so as she felt Neville’s arm tuck itself around her, before it pulled her into him. Rolling slightly, Pansy shifted herself so that she was positioned in front of him, where he held her in place with a comfortable tightness, her back flush against his stomach.

 

“How’s your shoulder?” Pansy asked, as she found the back of his right hand with her own, and linked their fingers together, this time the movement reciprocated.

 

“Not as bad as I thought it would be, though I can’t see me saying no to some more of that pain potion in a bit,” he answered, his voice was slightly muffled as he buried his face into Pansy’s thick head of hair, planting a quick kiss on the back of her head. “Pansy?”

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Remember how you told me that Daphne had turned your hair green in the summer?”

 

Pansy stiffened. 

 

_ Oh, shit! _

 

With a groan, she heard herself answer a stifled, “Yeah.”

 

“It was nice of you to leave it so I could see it.”

 

Pansy rolled her eyes, relaxing despite her embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m really generous like that,” she mumbled.

 

Neville chuckled again, before kissing her green locks once more. “How long have you been awake?” 

 

“Not too long, I was just...recalling the events of last night.”

 

“I hope I didn’t disturb you..”

 

“You did, actually.”

 

“What part did you get to?” Neville asked, and Pansy could  _ feel _ the smile in his voice, which was now sounding less croaky with every word he said, but a certain huskiness remained. 

 

“My skirt had just come off,” Pansy answered with a smirk.

 

“Oh, that was one of my favourite parts!”

  
  


* * *

 

 

_ From her position, once again straddling over him, Pansy had quickly realised she was in an  optimal point to graze her most sensitive spot over his hardened length. Which, from what she was able to feel, seemed to be, in her humble opinion, rather impressive.  _

 

_ His hands had landed gently on either side of her thighs, and his breathing deepened in time with hers as her hips graduated into a rotation; slowly at first, though her speed increasing gradually. She felt Neville buck up slightly into her every so often. _

 

_ “Pansy,” Neville had gasped, his voice strained. She had experienced an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction at that. _

 

_ She had halted her movements and tilted her head, sheepishly, to the side. “Yeah?”  _

 

_ “You have to stop,” he had said, his eyes pleading.  _

 

_ “But I’m having far too much fun,” she had replied with an exaggerated innocence. _

 

_ “Me too,” his fingers had began to trace small patterns inwards over her thighs, causing Pansy’s breathing to hitch as he grazed close with both hands to the sensitive points where her legs met her torso. “Lie down on your back.” _

 

_ “You didn’t say ‘please’,” Pansy had replied, smirking as she made one large, deliberate thrust. _

 

_ Neville had angled his upper body upwards, a feat which was surely difficult given his injury. He hadn’t flinched or grimaced, however. Which was really rather impressive now Pansy thought about it. _

 

_ “Please, tease...” he ran his left arm over the base of her back, briefly dipping his touch lower to pinch her behind. _

_ He had darted his left hand up her back, grabbing a fistful of her hair, which he used to effortlessly guide the surprised Slytherin downwards, until she was lying next to him, utterly perplexed, incredibly impressed and if possible, even more turned on.  _

 

_ “Hey, you can-” _

 

_ He’d rolled over with remarkable speed, in spite of her shoulder, and pushed himself on top of her, his hands finding the sides of her face, locking her into a passionate embrace and cutting Pansy’s words off with a kiss of his own, which had been like the searing, impossible, combination of a frozen flame. As hot as fire, and with the sharpness of ice, at that point, Pansy doubted whether she would have remembered her own name.  _

 

* * *

 

“You’re incredible,” he murmured from behind her, drawing her into the present once more.

 

“Hmm, I’m okay,” she replied, tightening her fingers that were laced through his own.

 

“You are many things Pansy Parkinson, but  _ okay,  _ is not one of them.”

 

“We must be a good match then, because you are also best described as _ incredible _ .”

 

She could feel a strange something begin to press into the base of her back, the movement, and the realisation that the strange something was in fact Neville’s _ something _ , caused Pansy to lean her head back against him. His lips met her neck in a series of short, tender kisses, and Pansy heard a small moan escape her lips as she felt his hands begin to snake over her body. 

 

* * *

 

_ His kiss had intensified and then all of a sudden subsided, making way to a succession of light brushes over her lips, cheeks, neck and chest. She was distractingly aware of his erection that would gently press into her sporadically, each time making her moan just a little louder. _

 

_ His hands had ventured down, first over her shoulders, before his palms glided gently over her breasts. Pansy had pushed her chest upwards, and this time they had moaned together as he explored the soft skin and delicate points that lay just below his fingertips. _

 

_ “Neville…” she had whispered, unable to form any coherent sentence to convey her mismatched thoughts.  _

 

_ Her back had arched even further when she first felt him place delicate kisses on the tips of her breasts, and she had felt the weight of his body leave hers as Neville pushed himself back over so that he was positioned on his side, one arm acting as a pillow, which, she now realised, had positioned her head in the most optimal way for him to kiss her when he wished. His other arm  was on top of Pansy’s stomach, and had alternated between trailing down and over her belly button and reaching back up, in order to give her breasts another caress, before he finally trailed his hand down once more, further than he had gone before, and began to stroke the lacy fabric of her underwear.  _

  
  


Pansy squealed as Neville’s hand landed unexpectedly upon her breast, laughing as she felt the way his erection twitched slightly as he took her delicate nipple between his fingers, before stretching his arm slightly in order to reach the other. 

 

Pressing into his hand, Pansy found herself slightly amused at the initiative Neville took by stretching the arm that had so far been beneath her, unmoving, forward, so that he was able to caress both at the same time. 

 

The amusement was short lived, however, as her breathing quickly hurried, and only one thought dominated her mind as she succumbed to him once more. “Touch me like you did last night.”

  
  


_ His touch had at first remained reserved and unsure, and Pansy, whose entire semblance of being was one solely of desperation for him to touch her, carried her own arm downwards, and placed her palm so that it pressed into the back of his hand. She guided him steadily, surely, towards her innermost private place and directed his fingertips to her most sensitive spot.  _

 

_ “Touch me here,” she had urged. _

  
  


And so he did, this time his fingers found their destination quickly, and Pansy realised with a satisfied sigh, that he had clearly remembered just what movements in particular she had enjoyed the most. 

 

Pansy’s hand snuck behind her, slipping beneath his underwear easily find Neville’s hard length and wound her fingers around his shaft. Beginning an up and down motion, she grasped him as tight as she dared and their hands worked together, each pleasuring the other with nothing but raspy cries of the other’s name, in between stifled moans. Pansy tilted her head around as far as she could, kissing him hard, and then harder still.

 

“Gods Pansy, you’re perfect.”

 

* * *

 

  
  


_ “That feels so fucking good,” she had moaned against his chest, as his fingers had increased in speed. Her hand had left his shortly after she had directed him, and after he had forcibly ripped her underwear from her body before quickly placing his hand back to where she needed it most, Neville had needed little further instruction. Pansy had busied herself by returning the pleasure, her hand was beneath his own underwear and was running up and down over his erection.  _

 

_ “I know,” was all he had managed to respond. His breath was ragged and when his mouth pressed itself into hers. Their kisses had been fragmented and uncoordinated, and, in Pansy’s mind, as hot as the fire he caused within her.  _

  
  


“I’m going to-” she whispered against his mouth. She didn’t remember closing her eyes but they were shut as an orgasm gripped her, the pleasure like no other erupted, washing over her in silent waves. 

 

Neville had followed suit a few seconds later, his less silent as he moaned her name.

  
  


_ They had laid, panting and unmoving in each other’s arms until their heavy breathing had regulated. _

 

_ He had trailed a line of kisses over her shoulder, before whispering raspily, “I’m really glad that Winky suggested I stay here.” _

 

_ “Hmm,” Pansy had answered with a brief laugh, “though, I’m fairly sure that you are supposed to be here to rest, not…” she trailed off as they both descended into a swarm of laughter. _

 

_ “This was far more medicinal than any rest,” Neville had replied, continuing to kiss Pansy’s shoulder between his words. _

 

_ “Well, be that as it may, if you don’t rest now, Winky will hunt me down.” _

 

_ “Hmm, well I couldn’t forgive myself if I were to be the cause of that manhunt. I’m fairly sure that elf could take you down,” he had said with a chuckle. “No offense,” he had added.  _

 

_ Pansy had laughed again. “None taken, I completely agree. Now, get some sleep,” she had instructed, the bossy tone present in her voice making Neville snort. _

 

_ “Goodnight, beautiful,” he had replied before wrapping his arm over her frame, and after a few short minutes Pansy realised his breathing had slowed and steadied, a small smile present upon her face. _

 

_ “Goodnight,” she whispered into the darkness.  _

  
  


* * *

 

 

“Gods, if there is a better way to start the day, I’ve not experienced it,” Neville stated once his breath had steadied. 

 

“There isn’t,” Pansy replied with a small laugh, giving Neville a quick kiss before she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Walking to her chest of drawers, Pansy looked coyly over her shoulder. “You better be checking me out.”

 

“I’m always checking you out.”

 

Pansy turned back with a smirk, pleased with his answer, and busied herself with her search for clothes. “Do you want some breakfast?” she called over her shoulder as she grabbed some clean underwear.

 

“Definitely, I’m bloody famished.”

 

Pansy laughed as she pulled a crisp, grey vest over her naked form and, catching a glimpse of herself in her nearby mirror, realised something with a start. She looked dishevelled, tired and, she had to admit, satisfied. And for one of the only times in her life, even Pansy could recognise that she looked genuinely, and unquestionably, happy. 

  
  



	27. Trevor is Nobody

“That’s the prefect schedules complete to the end of January,” Pansy informed a bleary-eyed Draco, his response being one solitary, brief nod. 

 

She raised her eyebrows, but did not retort, instead she shared a fleeting glance with Neville. The three were in Pansy and Draco’s living room, in their usual positions; Draco slumped over his chair whilst the couple perched next to each other on the couch. A year ago she wouldn’t have believed the new normality the three were developing, now, however, it was what Pansy found herself enjoying the most.

 

It had been a few weeks since Neville had stayed over, a feat he had managed twice, since, which was almost impressive, given the web of lies he was now weaving to his friends, so much so that Pansy had her own personal running joke of how Neville would have made a remarkable Slytherin. 

 

It was, however, a truth that weighed heavily on both their minds that Neville’s friends were not stupid, and they most definitely knew he was hiding something from them and they were both very aware that their secret currently existed on borrowed time.

 

“Don’t know why you bother, no one gives a shit anymore,” Draco slurred, after a several minute silence, his expression had, until then, been one of a mundane gloominess, now had traces of anger weaved into it. 

 

“You alright, mate?” Neville queried, as another soundless glance was shared between him and Pansy. 

 

Draco shrugged, and summoned his a nearby bottle of firewhisky. He drained the remainder of the bottle into his tumbler, and gulped the measure down in one, easy movement, “I’m fan-fucking-tastic Longbottom, cheers,” he ended his mock-sentiment with a raise of his now empty glass, grimacing as he slouched back, resuming his earlier position. 

 

“Maybe take it easy, Draco, you’ve been drinking harder than usual this week,” Neville offered.

 

“And I suppose you’d know all about my drinking habits, wouldn’t you Longbottom? Having been a part of my life for ten fucking minutes.”

 

“Alright man, I was just saying-”

 

“Well you know what, you can stop  _ just saying,  _ because I couldn’t give a toss what you’ve got to say.”   
  


“Draco!” Pansy interjected, a heat rising through her body that pooled into her cheeks, “there’s no need,  _ anyone  _ could see you’re drinking more than ever. Don’t be a dick, you can’t afford to lose friends, you’ve barely got any.”

 

“It’s a good job I don’t need any then, isn’t it?” Draco asked with a sneer, “just because you two can play happy families and pretend everything is perfect, doesn’t mean we all can.”

 

Neville opened his mouth to speak, but his comeback was nowhere near quick enough for Pansy, who had years more experience of vocal sparring with Draco than he had.

  
“Playing  _ happy families, _ ” Pansy shrieked, suddenly realising she was on her feet, “you think that’s what we’re doing? Oh, that’s rich, Draco, really fucking rich!”

 

“How so Pansy? Prey tell.”

 

“Err, how about the fact you were the one who told me to go  _ be fucking happy _ ? Remember  _ that _ ?”

 

Draco snorted, tipping the bottle he still happened to be clutching upside down, as though the action could possibly make more of the spirit appear.

 

“Oh, nothing to say, as usual, the second I actually have a valid point you suddenly become a mute,” Pansy raved, taking a few steady steps towards him, her right index finger pointed directly at his face, “you are a drunk, and you need to sort yourself out. You’re going to drink yourself to death, you fucking idiot.”

 

Both Draco and Neville rose simultaneously, Neville placing his left hand upon Pansy’s right shoulder, his body unmoving as his right gripped his wand. Draco swayed slightly as he settled himself upright, before taking a few, pointed steps towards Pansy 

 

“Shut up, Pansy.”

 

A cold, mirthless laugh echoed from Pansy’s mouth at his words. “When have I  _ ever  _ shut up?”

 

“I mean it, Pansy,” his vice was cold, detached, but the still present slur was a constant reminder of his intoxicated state.

 

“Or what?”

 

“Just fucking shut up!”

 

“Enough!” Neville’s voice cut through the argument like a knife, his body had twisted as Draco took his last step closer to Pansy, her eyes staring daggers into his.

 

“You don’t want to do that, Longbottom.”

 

“No, I don’t. But I will, now back off,” Neville’s words were deliberate, and said slowly.

 

“Tell me, Longbottom, how does she taste? Like my leftovers?” 

 

“Draco!”

 

But Pansy’s furious cry was inaudible over the sound that Neville’s fist made as it connected with Draco’s nose, as the sickening crunch caused a silence to befall the three. The blow, combined with the fact that his drunken state had rendered his balance uneven, had knocked Draco onto the floor and a pair of bloodshot grey eyes looked skywards towards the two figures looming over him as he spat a small amount of blood from his mouth.

 

“Knocked on my arse by Longbottom,” he muttered, before bursting into a bizarre fit of laughter, “fuck me, what a night.”

 

Neville shook his head, staring down at Draco with a look of contempt, before offering his hand to the other wizard, which Draco accepted straight away.

 

“Don’t  _ help _ him!” Pansy cried, flummoxed by the action.

 

“Cheers, mate _ , _ ” Draco said, dabbing his nose.

 

Neville shot Pansy a quick glance over his shoulder, before turning back towards the still wobbly, blood stained Draco. “You owe my girlfriend an apology,” he stated, “and just so you know,  _ mate,  _ if you ever refer to her as  _ your leftovers  _ again, I’ll do a hell of a lot more than knock you on your arse.”

 

“Sorry, Pans,” Draco replied, elongating her nickname as he looked blearily over Neville’s shoulder.

 

“Whatever, go to bed Draco.”

 

“Alright,” Draco relented, as he began the shaky walk to the stairs.

 

“Do you know what you need, Draco?” Pansy asked as she and Neville settled themselves back on the sofa.

 

“I have a feeling you’re going to enlighten me,” she heard him drawl in response, which was followed by a small bang and a muffled  _ oof,  _ presumably caused by Draco walking into part of the wall.

 

“You need to exert the energy you put into drinking, into getting fucking laid.”

 

“You’re probably not wrong there,” he responded, closing the living room door behind him. 

 

“Might make him more amenable,” Pansy muttered dryly as Neville chuckled, snaking his arm around her shoulders, “he’s just getting worse, I  _ know  _ this isn’t him, hell  _ you  _ probably know this isn’t him, but I don’t have a clue what to do with him. Tell me what to do,” she said, turning her head and nuzzling into Neville’s chest, “have you ever had somebody that you felt, I don’t know,  _ responsible _ for, I suppose, but with no way to know how to make them, better? Happy?”

 

Neville had began to smooth Pansy’s hair over her head as she spoke, and she felt his lips meet her forehead before he replied, “only Trevor, but that’s hardly the same.”   
  


“Trevor?”

 

“Now, don’t laugh.”

 

“Oh Gods,  _ who _ is Trevor?”

 

“Promise you won’t laugh,” he said as Pansy turned her body, a gleam in her eyes he had come to recognise, it was the expression she wore when she knew exactly what she wanted.

 

“Trevor is a plant, isn’t he?” Pansy asked, outrightly ignoring his request.

 

“Right, I’m not telling you, Trevor is nobody.”

 

“Tell me who Trevor is!” Pansy replied, indignantly, as she crawled, seductively, over Neville’s form, settling herself on his lap, her body straddling his.

 

“You cannot,” Neville began, turning his head furiously one way and then the other, as he purposefully avoided the kisses she was attempting to plant on his face, “use seduction...to get...your own way...in every-”

 

Triumphantly, Pansy cut him off as she pressed her lips into his. “Tell me who Trevor is,” she whispered against his mouth.

 

“Trevor was my toad,” Neville replied, disgruntled at his defeat, as Pansy sat up, “now, don’t stop kissing me.”

 

“A toad!?” Pansy cried.

 

Neville’s hands were running through her hair, coaxing her upper body downwards, into him again. “You just compared Draco to a toad,” she whispered, her words having a definite effect on them both as they stared at each other, neither moving nor speaking as both their bodies began to shake, and an intense laughter overtook their silent forms.

 

“Wait a minute,” Pansy managed to utter once the majority of their laughter had diminished, “I remember your toad, you lost him on the train in first year!”

 

“I lost him at one point or another on every train journey, and at numerous times throughout every year.”

 

“I think we  _ might  _ have laughed at you.”

 

“Most people did,” Neville replied honestly. 

 

“Pansy had positioned herself so that she was on Neville’s lap, and she ran one hand up his shirt, liking the way his small line of hair felt beneath her fingers, “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pushing her face into his clothed chest. 

 

Neville snorted. “I’ll forgive you.”

 

“What happened to him?”

 

“Who?” 

 

“Your toad, you don’t have him now?”

 

“Ah, no, he….he left.”

 

“He left?” Pansy tried to keep her voice steady from laughter despite knowing her shoulders were beginning to shake.

 

“Don’t laugh!”

 

“I’m not!” Pansy lied between barks of laughter.

 

“One day I found him at the lake, tried to get him to come back, but he looked at me, then jumped in. Thought about going after him but if I’m honest, he looked relieved, and then I was relieved and - Pansy, could you stop laughing for two minutes?”

 

“Your toad was relieved to be shot of you!” Pansy rocked ungracefully across Neville’s knees as her whole body shook with hysterics, “it has given me an idea though,” she added, still plagued with laughter.

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“Yes, but it’s a surprise.”

 

“Intriguing,” Neville replied, and Pansy felt his hand make its way to land in her hair once more, using her head as leverage, he brought her face upwards, towards his and caught her lips with his own.

 

“No,” Pansy said as they broke apart.

 

“No what?”

 

“I know that kiss, that’s your  _ I have to go  _ kiss, and I refuse to accept it.”

 

“I have to,” he replied softly, repeating her own words back at her.

 

Pansy knew her darkened expression was similar to that of a child on the cusp of a tantrum, but found she had very little within herself to care about such details. “I don’t want you to.”

 

“I don’t want me to either, I’ll be able to stay more next week though, and it’s Christmas”

 

Pansy allowed herself the smallest trace of a half-smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

 

* * *

 

Pansy didn’t see Neville again for the remainder of the day, or the entirety of the next two. She did, however, see Draco for almost all of that time, after he appeared the next day, still bleary-eyed, sheepish and far more apologetic than Pansy was used to. Not that it made much difference to the huff she was most definitely still in with the wizard.

 

“Longbottom must be rubbing off on me,” he stated, wincing slightly as his hand grazed over the point that had connected with Neville’s fist the night before, “all this bloody apologising isn’t natural for me.”

 

_ Having the restraint to not boot you in the face right now isn’t natural for me, but hey, we all have to make sacrifices.  _ “Oh, I know that.” 

 

“Oh Pans, come on. Longbottom forgave me,” Draco said through a pained grimace as he pointed his wand towards his face, clearly attempting a rudimental healing charm, Winky having point black refused to aid in any healing, despite Draco’s protests, of which there had been numerous as he argued that the House Elf should do as he demand, regardless, Winky simply walked away, entirely nonplussed at the Head Boy’s frustrations. 

 

“That’s because  _ Neville  _ has a far too forgiving personality. I, unluckily for you, Draco Malfoy, do not.”

 

“Fine,” Draco replied, standing, “I’m going out, see you in a bit.”

 

“I’m sure you will,” Pansy  replied tartly, refusing to look up from the book she was trying, and subsequently failing, to read. 

  
  


It had been two hours since his departure when Draco returned, his face, although always pale, had taken on an ashen quality that Pansy hadn’t seen in awhile, not since…

 

_...last year. _

 

“Why do you look like that?” she demanded.

 

Draco did not immediately answer, his posture was sharp, yet it had a forced, unnatural appearance, as though, despite his face seeming entirely calm, it was causing him a great deal of effort to stay poised. Pansy waited what felt like an age for his answer. 

 

“It’s done.”

 

Pansy rose, unsteadily, to her feet. “What’s done?”

 

“I just imperised the Carrows.”

 

_ Oh crap.  _ Pansy felt the palm of her hand hit her mouth, not realising she had been the one to fling it there at his words. Her answer was muffled through her hand when she spoke. 

 

“Oh Gods, wha- what was it like?”

 

“Mostly just bloody weird, also sickening, and a little bit...pretty good,” Draco answered honestly. 

 

“I can’t believe you’d risk that for me, you’re an idiot.”

 

Draco snorted. “I love you, too. There’s something else, I overheard them talking beforehand, I think they’re planning to spike all the Gryffindor food and drink with Veritaserum.”

 

“Well, that’s not good.”

 

“Couldn’t you just...stop them?”

 

“Theoretically, yes, but I don’t want to force them into too much, it’s risky enough as it is, and I can’t guarantee that I know every Veritaserum plan they have going,” he raised his hands, signalling she let him continue, as Pansy opened her mouth to answer him, “ _ but, _ I do have a plan.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“I think it’s time,” Draco began, a small grin forming on his pale face, “that you, me and Theo partook in a bit of nuisance.”

 

“Just like old times.”

 

“Precisely.” 


	28. The End of the Earth

The week running up to the Christmas holidays was busy and stressful, yet thankfully had the odd pleasantry thrown in for good measure.

 

Alecto Carrow seemed intent on ruining any semblance of festive cheer. The female Death Eater had forbidden any form of Christmas decor, handed out Crucios to anyone she happened to hear discussing the holiday and had doubled the amount of homework they had to complete; Pansy could only fathom that it was the fear that Alecto believed she instilled in the students that kept her from setting them essay after essay on the defamation of Muggles and Muggle-borns alike, considering she had yet to actually mark one. Most students, of all Houses, had taken to completing the unorthodox homework by using the medium as a way to rebelliously state exactly what their thoughts of the new Muggle Studies lessons were.

 

As much as Alecto had tried to dampen the air of the castle even more, Pansy had found herself forced to hide the uncharacteristic smile that threatened to take over her usually impassive face even more so this week than previous ones. One particular time she’d had to work harder to hide said smile came after a chance meeting in a deserted corridor. After a risky, drawn-out kiss had seen Pansy, giggling and dragging an eager Neville behind her, rushing towards the first empty classroom she could find.

 

He spoke between kisses. “You’re insatiable, do you know that?”

 

She didn’t reply, instead choosing to nip the side of Neville’s neck, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the Gryffindor. She placed a lingering kiss on the area she’d just bitten down on, and, using his tie as a leash of some sort, pulled him forwards, as she walked backwards, and perched herself on top of a nearby table. Once she was seated, she continued to pull him in closer and wrapped her legs, which were mostly bare, around his waist.

 

“Gods,” Neville groaned into Pansy’s mouth as he placed a series of kisses over her lower lip.

 

She felt, rather than directed, her hips push against him. “Fuck,” she said breathily as she felt Neville push his own hips forward, into hers.

 

“Shit!” The school bell interrupted their intimacy, and Pansy groaned against Neville’s mouth. “I have to go,” she mumbled.

 

“Since when did Pansy Parkinson care about being late?” Neville replied huskily as he trailed his fingertips over the sides of her hips.

 

“She cares when it’s her best friend she’s late for.”

 

Neville pressed his forehead against Pansy’s. “He’ll understand.”

 

Pansy pulled Neville close to her. “He? What, no. Not Draco. It’s Daphne, she practically begged me to meet her this morning, and I couldn’t, so I agreed to, well, now.”

 

Neville's brow furrowed in recollection. “Is she okay? I saw you both at breakfast, she was upset.”

 

Pansy bit her lip. “I hope so.”

 

Neville kissed her again, this time less full of lust and more of longing. “I wish we could stay here, though, when will I see you?”

 

Pansy giggled as his fingertips tickled each side of her waist. “Soon!”

 

He planted one lingering, solitary kiss upon her mouth. “Okay, baby.”

 

Pansy hoisted herself from the table and straightened both her shirt and skirt on her short walk to the door. Carefully, she peered into the corridor. “It’s alright, it’s deserted already, there’s no used classrooms in this hall, we can leave together, well...sort of together,” she wrinkled her nose at yet another reminder of the dangerous situation that was their relationship.

 

Neville’s voice was oddly strained. “No, it’s fine, you go ahead.”

 

“I really don’t think anyone-oh!” Pansy turned to look at a sheepish Neville, who was standing with a bright red face and two fists clamped and positioned very deliberately over his crotch.

 

“I hope you know that this is entirely your fault,” he said, haughtily, glowering at Pansy, who had all but collapsed in a fit of laughter.

 

“Well, I’ll leave you to, calm yourself down, or... _relieve yourself,_ whichever works.”   


“Oh, yes!” Neville hissed in an obviously sarcastic drawl, “I’m really going to have a quick one in here by myself, you’ll be gone but there re some nice, shapely pieces of chalk over there.”

 

Pansy sighed through her nose, forcing her laughter back inside, which was no mean feat considering Neville’s face was only deepening in colour the more she antagonised him, and walked quickly back towards him.

 

“I want you to close your eyes,” she whispered in his ear, “and think about me, okay?”

 

He groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me, Parkinson.”

 

Pansy jogged back to the door and opened it slightly, the urge to laugh was back but she held it, instead she bit her bottom lip and drew the back of her skirt up for the briefest moment, flashing Neville a quick, but almost entire view of her behind. “See you later!” she cried cheerily, and promptly left the classroom, cackling in spite of herself at the throaty cough that she’d come from Neville as she’d pulled the door closed behind her.

 

The walk through the castle was, for the most part, deserted. Were it a regular year not controlled by the Carrows, the halls would be jolly, even during class time, for even the portraits and ghosts usually acted more jovial during the festive period. Now, however, even the non-human inhabitants of the castle were all but silent.

 

Pansy’s pace was quick and her thoughts sad.

 

_I’ve got Neville. And Daphne and Draco. I’ve still got Theo and Blaise...and Millie - I hope._

 

She repeated the thought three times, as though it were a mantra, which, she reasoned, she supposed it was.

 

She replayed the conversation she'd had with Daphne earlier that day. She'd hoped that the blonde would be able to help her order Neville’s Christmas present, but Pansy had found Daphne in something of a hysterical state, which, considering they were at breakfast, was beginning to draw attention.  

 

“Daph, what’s-”

 

“Not here!” Daphne had hissed, “are you free now?”

 

Pansy had frowned. “I'm actually not, but I can be during third period.”

 

“Okay,” Daphne had replied as she tried to regain her composure, “can we meet in the Slytherin common room then?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Upon entering the Slytherin common room, Pansy spotted Daphne sitting around a table with Draco and their other friends. Frowning, she made her way towards the group. Daphne hadn’t mentioned the others that morning.

 

At her approach, Daphne stood, and silently strode towards Pansy, arms wide. Pansy, bewildered, returned the blonde’s hug instantly. “Daph? What’s going on?”

 

Daphne swallowed against Pansy’s shoulder. “Pans,” she said with a sob.

 

As though as one, Draco, Theo and Blaise all arose. Blaise placed one of his hands on Daphne’s back, the corners of Theo’s mouth twitched, as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to smile, even reassuringly and Pansy felt Draco’s hand pat her arm. Her eyes darted between each of her friends faces in return. Only Millicent had remained seated, her eyes darting nervously, not focussing on anyone- or thing, in particular.

 

When Pansy spoke, the wobble in her voice was unintentional. “What’s going on?”

 

The entrance to the common room suddenly opened and a number of students piled in. Daphne turned to meet Blaise’s eyes, “I thought it’d be quiet here, and that it was before we knew...everything, but now I think we need to go to Draco and Pansy’s?”

 

Pansy frowned, _everything of what?_

 

“Everything of _what?”_ she repeated the thought, this time aloud.

 

“I agree, that’d be best,” Blaise replied, and beckoned the five others to follow.

 

Pansy knew the walk was quick and yet it felt agonisingly long, especially considering they walked in silence. And Pansy realised, that this wasn’t going to be a fun talk, in any way, she knew she had reason to be frightened.

 

As they reached the familiar cow field picture, Pansy let out a sigh of relief, as horrible as whatever her friends needed to tell her undoubtedly was, this not knowing had to be worse.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Draco said, and Pansy noticed a shared, knowing glance between him, Theo and Blaise, and with a squeeze of her arm, Draco began to stride up the corridor. Pansy watched him for a second before leading the others inside her living quarters.

 

Once inside, Pansy settled as best she could despite her anxious impatience in her usual spot as Daphne took a deep breath, and then another. The four had all sunk into various seats, Theo and Millicent next to Pansy whilst Daphne and Blaise occupied a nearby armchair.

 

Daphne took in a final, lengthy breath. “Show her, Theo.”

 

Pansy’s eyes narrowed in on Theo, who let out a sigh, before pulling two pieces of parchment from his pocket. “Earlier,” he began, “I was called to the Amycus’s office, where he started banging on about a load of shit, most of it irrelevant, but the gist was that I’m to be next to be prepped to take it.”

 

Pansy swallowed. She knew she didn’t need to ask, but did anyway. “The mark?”

 

“The Mark,” Theo repeated, “but...that isn’t all.” He handed Pansy the first piece of parchment. Her eyes met his momentarily before she flipped the page over. A list of names were scribbled upon it.

 

_Seventh Years_ _-_ _Slytherin_

~~_Draco Malfoy - done_ ~~

_Theodore Nott - Jan_

_Vincent Crabbe - Jan_

_Gregory Goyle - Jan_

_Blaise Zabini - Jan_

_Pansy Parkinson - Apr_

_Millicent Bulstrode - Apr_

_Daphne Greengrass - Apr_

 

“Theo,” Pansy’s breathing had become raspy as she prepared to ask yet another question she needed no answer to, “what does this mean?”

 

Theo cleared his throat, his arm had found its way around Pansy’s shoulders. “It means,” he began, “that things are moving quicker than we thought, quicker than Draco thought. It means that me and Blaise are expected to take the mark in a month, and you, Mills and Daph in four.”

 

Pansy’s mouth was dry.

 

She heard Daphne cough, and raised her face to meet her best friend’s. The blonde’s eyes darted first to Blaise’s and then Theo’s and Pansy saw Blaise give his girlfriend a reassuring nod before he threw Pansy a comforting smile.

 

Pansy braced herself as Daphne began to talk  “Pans, that’s not the only thing, there’s another thing that Theo found, that he hadn’t had a chance to properly look at until just before you got to us.”

 

Pansy looked round at Theo, who was still beside her, his arm still resting comfortably around her shoulders.

 

“I thought it’d be to do with the list,” he said, his voice was shaky and so unlike Theo that Pansy had to stare into his face for a second to make sure it really was him. _This isn’t going to be good._ He handed her the second parchment. This one was a handwritten note with no list. She recognised the handwriting instantly, its owner having been her head of House for years.

 

_If all efforts to convert those discussed are unsuccessful by the beginning of January and you are confident that the one leading their resistance group under your incompetent noses is indeed Neville Longbottom, you have my permission to dispose of him by whatever method you deem fit._

 

Pansy had never before been so aware of her own heartbeat and it rung in her ears like a siren.

 

Somewhere, from what could have been miles away Pansy heard a door, and footsteps and felt Daphne’s hand close over the fist enclosing the note that Pansy had been unaware she’d made,

 

“Theo,” Pansy gasped and for the second time asked an entirely unnecessary question , “what does this one mean?”

 

Theo’s grip on her shoulder was fierce. “It means we’re leaving.”

 

“Leaving,” Pansy repeated his last word aloud.

 

“Yeah,” Theo spoke, “us, and...and Longbottom, are leaving.”

 

Pansy’s face was betraying her, her usual nonchalant expression long gone. “He won’t, he won’t leave, their fight means too much to him.”

 

Another voice broke through the sudden quiet of the living room. “That’s not entirely true.”

 

Pansy stood and whirled around, her eyes passing in disbelief over the faces of Draco and Neville in turn. Neville nodded briefly to each of the Slytherin’s in turn as he took the steps needed to cross the room and reach her. Her eyes took Neville in, greedily, not knowing whether to believe it was really him.

 

“You still don’t know,” he said, in barely more than a whisper.

 

Pansy swallowed. “Know what?”

 

She felt his fingertips come to rest on the side of her face as he pushed a few loose strands backwards. “That without you, I don’t have much of a fight.”

 

“I don’t-”

 

“My main reason for fighting now, is you.”

 

Pansy’s breaths were short and rushed. “You’d leave with us?”

 

The ghost of a smile flickered across Neville’s face before he placed his hands on Pansy’s shoulders before pulling her into his chest. She felt his arms encase her shaking frame and his lips press into the side of her head. When he spoke it was a whisper against her ear. “I’d go to the end of the Earth if you asked.”


	29. Flecks of Silver & Gold

Before, it was a truth she hadn’t properly acknowledged, perhaps because it hadn’t an end date. 

 

Until now. 

 

Now it was definite and their plans were calculated and deliberate and being meticulously thought through. 

 

They were leaving. 

 

Pansy looked around her living room, at each face in turn. The people she trusted most in the world were sitting right beside her, and her plans were their plans. And if nothing, she still had them, and for that she felt gratitude. 

 

It was the gratitude that she focussed upon. Gratitude was far safer than the unknown and held much greater appeal than the certain torture and probably death that awaited them were something to go wrong. 

 

Neville’s arms had remained around Pansy’s shoulders, and even when the group sat back down, he held her as close to him as possible. His resolve was, as it usually was, strong and steady, but Pansy knew from the rigidity of his jaw and the small worry lines that surrounded his features, that even if he didn’t realise it, he was holding her as much for himself, as he was for her. 

 

Her gaze eventually settled on Daphne and Blaise, noting their positions, that were almost a mirror image of hers and Neville’s, and Pansy didn’t know whether to feel uplifted, that this new obstacle would be tackled with Daphne and Blaise by her side, or more angry at the sheer unjustness of their situation. It was absurd, in many ways, that they, not yet adults, were having to plot this way, secretly, to leave what should be a refuge, leave the one place that should have remained protected, solely because none of them agreed with the depraved leadership of a psychopath. 

 

Theo had been the first to speak, and he clapped once, into the quiet. “Alright folks, we need a plan.”

 

He was right, of course, they  _ did  _ need a plan, but coming up with the execution of said plan was more difficult than any of them could have fathomed. 

At first, they were considerate; one of them would talk, stating a suggestion or asking a question, and the others would answer with what they thought best. This didn’t last, and before long the room was filled with a terrible din of voices, none of which particularly legible. 

 

“ALRIGHT!” Draco suddenly roared into the crowd of friends. “WILL YOU NOISY FUCKERS SHUT UP!”

 

The result was instantaneous, as all eyes were suddenly drawn to the Head Boy. 

 

“Alright mate,” Theo began with a snort, “no need to shout.”

 

Draco shot him an exasperated look, before turning his attention to the rest of the group. “Right, we need to decide three things.” At this, he brought his left hand upwards and raised one finger for each point he made. “When, where and what does anyone  _ need  _ to do before they leave?” At that point his eyes met Neville’s, who nodded once, gratefully.

 

Daphne cleared her throat. “Can’t we just walk out?”

 

“No,” Draco replied, simply, “ _ I  _ can, and possibly Pansy, as the Head Boy and Girl are automatically granted more privileges even with the magic of the grounds, but the rest of you won’t be able to just leave. I know that Snape himself made sure that extra security measures were put in place to keep students on the grounds. I imagine he knew a fair few students would wish to leave.

 

Daphne’s mouth was hanging open at Draco’s words. “So, we’re trapped?” 

 

“Right now, yes, but you’re forgetting that next week, the barriers will be lifted, enough to get to the train, at least.”

 

Draco’s eyes trailed over each of the others in turn, when no one spoke, he began again. “Daphne, Blaise, Millie, Theo and me are all supposed to get on the train. None of you can board it, I’d bet a lot of gold that you two,” he nodded at Blaise and Theo in turn, “will be met by Death Eaters and taken to my house.”

 

“But, if we can’t board the train...” Daphne whispered.

 

Draco turned to face her. “I think the four of you should go down with the other students as planned, but duck out before the train and get to Hogsmeade, from there you’ll be able to apparate.”

 

“Sounds...simple,” Theo replied.

 

“It will be,” Draco answered, “as long as you aren’t seen.”

 

Pansy saw Daphne swallow hard at his last words before she turned her attention back towards Draco, who had turned his face towards her and Neville, whose arm had remained around Pansy’s shoulder, his hand still gripped her tightly throughout Draco’s entire speech. 

 

“As for Pans and Longbottom, that’ll be trickier, because neither of them are on the list of those going home from the holidays, so you can’t be seen leaving the castle. I think you’ll need to leave at night, but maybe a few days later. If the Dark Lord finds out that Theo and Blaise aren’t there, he’ll suspect something is up, if the Carrows tell him Pans is still here, it takes some heat off. I’ll find out what you’ll need to do to get past the gate before the rest of us go,” he added.

 

“What about you, mate,” Theo asked, his dark eyes were narrowed as he watched his best friend. 

 

Draco brought one hand up to grab the back of his own neck. “I need to go home, first.”

 

“But-” Pansy began before Draco interrupted her. 

 

“If I don’t show, my mother will be executed,” he said flatly. 

 

Nobody spoke. 

 

“Okay,” Blaise broke the silence, eventually. “Daph, me, Millicent and Theo get to Hogsmeade instead of boarding the train, and apparate away from there. Pansy and Longbottom will leave in the night a few days later and apparate to meet us, and Draco you’ll join us later.”

 

“Yes,” Draco replied, I need to make sure my mother can get out, before they can even suspect that I’m not loyal to him.”

 

“Okay,” Blaise replied, “I believe next on your list, was  _ where _ .”

 

Draco nodded. “Right, we need to decide where to go.”

 

“If we can leave the country, I can make sure we have a place in France, or Italy,” Blaise said.

 

Draco frowned and shook his head. “I know they’ve banned international apparition.”

 

Daphne’s eyes were wide. “They can _ do _ that?”   
  


“They control everything the Ministry has the power to do.”

 

“Shit,” Theo mumbled. 

 

“I think staying in Scotland is our best bet,” Draco ventured, “anything South is just closer to them, and the highlands are so sparsely occupied, it  _ should  _ be easier to hide, as long as we constantly have cloaking spells and shit covered.”

 

“Wait,” Daphne was looking positively horrified, her voice already bordering on hysterical, “ _ please  _ tell me we aren’t going to have to sleep in some sort of  _ tent _ ?”

 

“Now’s  _ not _ the time for a Daphne Drama!” Theo, Millicent and Pansy said simultaneously, resulting in a collective chuckle from Draco, Blaise, who briefly kissed Daphne on the cheek, and Neville.  

 

Daphne scowled. “You won’t be saying that when we’re sleeping on the  _ ground _ ,” she hissed the last word as though it caused her physical pain. 

 

“Alright, next?” Theo asked Draco. “What we need to do before we leave?”

 

“Yeah,” Draco said. “We won’t be coming back, so anything that needs put in order, needs to be done. Longbottom, that probably applies to you more than anyone.”

 

Neville, who had remained mostly silent since they began the discussion, nodded. “I’ll need to make sure everyone is capable...when the time comes.”

 

“What will you tell them?” Daphne asked.

 

Neville shrugged. “The truth, not everyone. But I owe a couple of them that, at least.”

 

“That’s fair enough.”Draco nodded stiffly. “Daphne, what about Astoria?”

 

“I’ve already decided I’m going to tell her to get to mum, and go into hiding. I don’t think she should return after the holidays.”

 

The others nodded in agreement and a collective and estranged sound of relief filled the room. Pansy couldn’t bring herself to think of anything happening to Astoria or Freyja, and forced the thought to the back of her already full mind, where another immediately took its place.

 

“Draco,” Pansy swallowed, “I don’t want to leave Winky behind.” 

 

She had expected laughs and looks of derision, but no one did either, and Pansy was surprised when Draco shook his head and simply said “Me neither.”

 

“Did Miss Pansy call for Winky?” A familiar voice rang through the living room. 

 

Pansy let out a sigh, hoping that the elf would agree to leave with them, if it were even possible, and if, ultimately it wasn’t, Winky at least deserved to know why she wouldn’t see she or Draco again. “Yeah Winky, come in, you should be a part of this.”

 

As it turned out, Pansy needn’t have worried, for Winky, rocking back and forth slightly on the balls of her feet, quickly became intensely excited about the prospect of being on the run with seven teenagers. 

 

“Ohhh, Winky will need to get food, and drinks, and washcloths in order, undetectable extensions are going to be needed, yes they are. Winky will sort you all something to eat and then start the preparations right away, yes she will.”

 

“And you won’t get in trouble...for leaving?” Theo asked, “if any of my father’s House Elves just left, they’d suffer.”

 

“Winky is bound to the Head Boy and Girl, Mr Theo,” Winky replied, “Miss Pansy and Mr Draco are currently the equivalent of Winky’s owners, you see? Also, since Dobby came to work for Hogwarts, each elf has a proper contract, oh yes we do. Not many of us wish to use it, no, we do not, it is not the House Elf way, but, Winky must admit, it will come in handy, for this.”

 

“Well, that’s good, Winky, welcome aboard,” Theo replied, and Pansy couldn’t help but smile, imagining their faces if she’d told Draco and Theo five months ago that they’d be planning to run away, with a rogue House Elf in tow, a House Elf that they hadn’t instructed to come, but asked, and respected enough to want with them simply because they wished her to remain safe. 

 

_ This year has changed us all. _

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, that went...relatively okay,” Neville murmured into Pansy’s ear, a few hours later. They were sitting on the edge of Pansy’s bed, having not long said goodbye to Blaise, Daphne and Theo. “What did you say to Daphne, by the way? She gave me this smile that, quite frankly, made me nervous.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Pansy said flippantly as she allowed her head to drop to the side, to rest on Neville’s shoulder. 

 

“Hmmm,” Neville clearly wasn’t convinced, but he let the matter slide, opting instead to reach his arm around Pansy’s shoulders. He pulled her into him and settled himself a bit further back on the bed, enabling him to turn more fully, and wrap his other arm around Pansy also, encasing her in a hug that, until that moment, she’d had no idea how much she’d needed. 

 

He had initially prepared to leave, and Pansy, as much as she’d wanted to, didn’t tell him to stay. However, her face must have given her away,  _ really must get my bitch face back up to scratch,  _ and he had studied her for a moment before declaring that he’d  _ think of something to tell the others tomorrow _ .

 

“You don’t have to,” Pansy had whispered, not trusting the wobble in her voice as the reason they were leaving, the notes, the laid out plan for her to take the Mark, and Snape’s casual instruction that the Carrows could murder Neville, all washed over her again like a wave, as though she were learning the information for the first time. 

 

“Yeah, I do,” Neville replied. “Let’s go to bed.”

 

Somehow, the day had rolled into night and Pansy hadn’t realised how exhausted she really was. 

 

She wrapped her arms around him in return, and together they sat upon her duvet, the severity of what they had learned that day feeling as though it was circling them. And Pansy didn’t wish to think of it anymore, she wanted to forget and for that, she needed to feel. 

 

She swallowed. “Neville?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

She was ready for his mouth to crash against hers, but that wasn’t how he chose to act on her instruction. Instead, he danced his fingertips lightly over her back, before trailing them upwards, where he balled fistfulls of her hair whilst pressing his forehead into hers. 

 

“I wanted this to be better,” he mumbled.

 

_ Huh?  _ “What?” Pansy blurted.

 

“Better place, better...circumstances, but maybe those things don’t matter. Because I don’t just  _ want  _ you to know, now. I need you to know.”   
  


“What are you-”

 

He positioned her face directly in front of hers, his hands residing at the side of each of her cheeks. “I love you.”

 

_ Oh.  _ Her eyes pooled with tears as the emotion of the magnitude of the day, now both bad and good, broke forth from her resolve. 

 

Her “I love you, too,” was said through cries of fear and uncertainty, but also sheer and unrelenting happiness. 

 

“Hey,” he whispered, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe tears from her face, “loving me isn’t  _ that  _ bad, is it?”

 

She managed a laugh, it was small but it was genuine, and it was for him. _Because_ _everything is for him._

 

He smiled, and Pansy used her own fingertips to trace the path his smile seemed to take to reach his eyes.

 

“Huh, that’s funny” she said as she moved the pad of one of her own thumbs back and forth on his temple, “your eyes have flecks of silver in them,” she shot him as much of a smirk as her emotional state would allow, “how very Slytherin.”

 

“Do you know what else is funny?” he asked.

 

“What?”

 

“Yours have flecks of gold.” 

 

She opened her mouth to retort something irrelevant and sarcastic, but her words were snatched by him as quick as they began to materialise. The grip of his hands on her head intensified and his whole body shifted forward, into hers and he breathed deeply and looked at her with the fierceness only he was able.    
  
_ Then,  _ he kissed her.

 


	30. What Happens in the Greenhouse

As it turned out, there was a lot more smaller tasks that needed attended to before they had set to put their plan into action. The first on their ever-increasing agenda was for Draco, Pansy and Theo to break into Professor Slughorn’s stores, tamper with whatever stock of Veritaserum he had, and, at Neville’s request, think of some way to hinder the correct brewing of any further batches. 

 

“No pressure, then,” Theo remarked. 

 

The three friends were walking, keeping what they hoped was a moderate, nonchalant pace, towards section of the dungeons that held the Potions classroom and stores. 

 

“Alright,” Draco began as he came to a stop, he held up one hand to halt the other two, “no chance it’ll be in the main stores, we’ll need to get into his private stash, in the room  _ behind  _ the main store.”   
  


“Can’t you just, you know, make the Carrows  _ not  _ drug the Gryffindors?” Theo inquired. 

 

“No, from what you told us, it didn’t sound as though this is something off their own back, this is an order they’ve been given. It would make no sense for them not to do it.”

 

“‘Spose,” Theo mumbled, and at the nod from Draco, began to lead the three towards their destination. 

 

The breaking in itself hadn’t been too difficult.  _ Alohomora  _ hadn’t worked, as they had expected, but a convenient skeleton key of sorts that had been obtained from an eager to please, as though they’d change their mind at any moment about her accompanying them, Winky, had done the trick. 

 

The Veritaserum, all twenty lots of it, had been easy enough to locate. The perfectly clear potion was sitting inside a number of perfectly clear vials, and the small addition of a fraction of lacewing added to each was guaranteed to render the potion of truth absolutely useless, whilst still maintaining the sharp clarity of its appearance. 

 

The next part, was riskier, but only if the Carrows chose to collect the potion themselves, which Pansy deemed unlikely. 

 

She left the note behind the first vial that Slughorn was likely to reach for, and breathed a sigh of relief as she, Draco and Theo stepped back into the dark corridor, hoping that Slughorn heeded her written words. 

 

_ As long as they want it, make it defective.  _

 

“Do you know, that went far smoother than I predicted,” Draco said. 

 

Theo snorted. “After a fight, were you?”

 

“Maybe,” Draco replied with the hint of a grin, “I say we make up for it with some drunken shenanigans.”

 

Theo was already nodding enthusiastically at Draco’s words, but Pansy, smiling, shook her head. “Sounds great, but I’m busy.”

 

“Of course,” Draco elbowed Theo, “she’s got a hot date...in a greenhouse.” 

 

“Shut up!” Pansy barked as both boys exploded in fits of laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

She bode the irritatingly mocking Draco and Theo goodbye a few minutes later and her footsteps echoed through the stone hallway until she reached the stairs that led to the entrance hall. 

 

It was late, and the entrance was, predictably, deserted, save for one familiar shadow in the darkness behind a nearby pillar. 

 

Pansy grinned, and quickened her pace slightly as she approached him. “Miss me?”

 

“Always,” he replied, “you ready?” 

 

“Yep!” 

 

“Alright, the doors are usually open until ten, and it’s quarter to, once we’re out, we’re out for the night.”

 

Pansy cocked her head. “I trust you have reason for this debauchery?”   
  


Neville’s dimples appeared with his smile. “I do.”

 

Pansy smirked and began to walk towards the heavy front doors, “Well come on then,” she hissed, “Gods, Neville! Keep up, will you!”

 

Once outside, they moved  as quickly as they could, skirting as close to the castle as they were able to, before making a mad dash for the greenhouses once close enough. Pansy glanced upwards as Neville unlocked the door. A dementor was looming close by, and Pansy swore the wintery night’s air was cooling even further. 

 

“Neville, what about those,” she said, her voice full of worry. 

 

Neville’s gaze followed hers as he opened the door and ushered her inside. “Don’t worry about them, Professor Sprout told me that the mix of magical plants act as a sort of dampener against them, they’re less aware of humans because they’re able to sense the magic of the plants, or something.”

 

“Okay,” Pansy replied, relieved. “That’s good.”

 

As soon as she heard the door click shut behind her, Neville waved his wand and a number of candles lit up, they seemed to lead towards the back of the greenhouse, forming a lit path of sorts, which, after a curious glance at her boyfriend, Pansy began to follow. She reached one hand back and felt his fingers lace through hers as they made their way to the back of the glass building. 

 

At the very back, the number of candles had increased, and Pansy actually gasped aloud as her eyes took in the sight that was awaiting her. 

 

“How did you…” 

 

He didn’t answer straight away, instead she felt his hand leave hers and both his palms met her shoulders. A solitary kiss was placed upon the back of Pansy’s neck and he breathed an intake of air as he kept his mouth pressed to her. “Do you like it?”

 

“I...no one has ever done anything like this for me, ever” she breathed, her eyes greedily taking in the assortment of pillows and cushions and duvets that were situated in the quiet corner, the numerous candles casting an atmospheric glow over them. To the side of the duvets, Pansy could see a crate of food and drink, and at another wave of Neville’s wand, from somewhere unbeknownst to her, some slow piano music began to play and after a few bars, a string of flowers began to criss cross and weave themselves overhead, over the duvet, cocooning the bedding into a kind of nest. “This is amazing.”

 

Pansy allowed her body to lean backwards, against Neville’s strong chest, and she hummed as his fingertips danced over the sides of her waist, before they moved, as one, to lie atop the duvets. 

 

They positioned themselves as they usually would were they situated on Pansy’s bed, with her lying on her back and him lying, but propped up on his side, one of his arms acting as her pillow, the other trailing over her stomach.    
  
Pansy knew her nails would be digging into the side of his neck, but she only smirked further as she pulled his face to meet hers, needing her lips against his. He granted her only one, solitary kiss and she pouted as he pulled away, much to Neville’s amusement. 

 

“Don’t be mean,” she pouted. “Kiss me.”

 

He chuckled and granted her another, lone kiss, and she rather enjoyed, as annoying as it was, the way his eyes darkened when he denied her any more. “I’m never mean,” he replied. “But you need to eat first.”

 

“I don’t,” Pansy protested, but halted as Neville threw his hand up, signalling her to stop. 

 

“Yes, you do. I know you haven’t been eating breakfast, and Draco told me that you’ll make sure he eats, but he’s had to start reminding you to eat, yourself.”

 

“He’s exaggerating,” Pansy lied, grumpily. 

 

“Alright,” Neville replied, and Pansy knew he didn’t believe her one bit, “but for now, will you just accept that I’m going to make sure you do eat...and be a little cross if you don’t look after yourself.”

 

“‘Spose.”

 

“Good,” he replied, lowering his face to hers once again and placing a series of soft, lingering kisses on her lips. 

 

Pansy rolled her eyes and groaned. “Why do I feel like you’re rewarding me?”

 

“I’ve no idea,” Neville replied, feigning innocence as he kissed her again, before he sat up and began to sort Pansy a plate of food from the crate. 

 

“I hope you know I’d never put up with this ridiculous coddling from anyone else.”

 

“I do know,” Neville said with a small chuckle as he  passed her the plate. Pansy sat up, the top of her head only narrowly missing the web of vines above them, and began to eat, his words coursing through her mind. 

 

“But,” she began, avoiding his eyes, instead choosing to focus on his shirt, under which she knew was a particularly impressive stomach, “I...might....sort of...love you...for it.”

 

He breathed a laugh and took her hand in his own. “I love you, too.”

 

Smiling into her food, Pansy squeezed his hand as tight as she could, and for a while they ate in a comfortable silence, each with one hand still intertwined with the other’s. 

 

Once they’d finished, they wasted no time in lying backwards once more, and this time Neville didn’t deny her any of the kisses she desired, careful that they wouldn’t move too strenuously, considering they’d just consumed a full meal, they stayed relatively still, their kisses tentative and light and filled with a sweetness that Pansy could feel utterly consuming her. 

 

“What have you done to me?” she breathed against him. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

They’d remained in the same position for a long while, with no worry over how long they had, or whether they’d be caught, Neville having assured her that Professor Sprout had absolutely no need or want to visit the greenhouses in the dead of night, and they simply  _ were _ , existing together in their hidden, botanical safe place. 

 

She started to breath raggedly as Neville’s hand, which had remained still on her stomach, began to roam over her torso, his touch was light and teasing, running down to the top of her jeans, up over her navel, below her top, to the bottom of her bra. 

 

“You feel amazing,” he whispered, dipping his head low to plant kisses over her cheek and then her jaw, before eventually he devoured the side of her neck, running his tongue over her sensitive flesh roughly. He bit down, not hard at first, but with an increased intensity at the moan that emanated from her mouth. She felt him suck gently on the same point and brought her hands to his shoulders, using them to pull him forwards. He relented, and, his mouth unmoving from her neck, moved on top of her entirely. 

 

One by one, piece by piece, clothing was discarded from both of their bodies, until all that they remained wearing was underwear, and Pansy knew, despite having been in this proximity with him before, this time was different. 

 

She gasped as he thrust his hips gently forward, feeling the tip of his erection pressing into her most sensitive spot, whilst at the same time planting a chaste kiss on the tip of her left breast, and she let out a louder than usual moan when his tongue began to swirl over her nipple.

 

He thrust again, and this time Pansy’s own hips moved also, meeting his, causing both she and Neville to cry out a collective groan. 

 

Moving his face upwards, he kissed her lips once more and she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as she kissed him as deeply as she could, the next thrust of his hips causing his name to spill from her lips, into his. 

 

She fought him as he pulled away, urging his face back to hers as his bare upper body moved upwards, and she found herself actually frowning at him, much to Neville’s amusement. 

 

“Where do you think you are you going?” she demanded, tightening the hold her legs had around his waist. 

 

“Well, I  _ thought  _ you might want me to focus,” his pupils momentarily darted downwards, to Pansy’s underwear, which, truth be told, were now rather damp and uncomfortable, “my mouth... _ somewhere else. _ ”

 

Her breathing hitched all of a sudden, her underwear suddenly dampening all the more at his words. 

 

“Oh, well...yes. That is a,” she swallowed, her usual poise utterly thrown, “good idea, as you were.”

 

Neville smiled darkly before lowering himself on top of her again with a laugh. “Oh no,  _ clearly  _ you want me to keep kissing you,” he said the words between kisses, “and I’d hate to-”

 

It was his latest thrust that did it, pushed her to the point she  _ needed  _ him, down there, more than she currently needed oxygen. 

 

“Move that mouth of yours between my legs,  _ right now _ ” she muttered against his lips, darkly, “or I swear to Merlin, I will  _ never _ kiss you again.”

 

And, thankfully, despite the fact he took an age of lingering kisses down her abdomen, to the point Pansy was squirming with want beneath him, even more so when he carefully peeled her underwear, agonisingly slowly, from down her legs, until eventually, she felt him place a kiss...down there. 

 

At first, his tongue met her most sensitive point with small, tentative movements. He didn’t stay in the same place, instead kissing his way over her inner thighs, and up the entirety of her soaking core, before honing in once more, and then starting his torturous teasing all over again. Only when she was mewling constantly with desire, her nails gripping into his head, did his tongue, and the glorious flicking and lavishing of her it was doing, remained in the same position, the one she needed it in the most.

 

“Neville I-I’m going to-” she didn’t need to finish her sentence, for the orgasm that crashed over her, and the cries it brought forth from her, finished it for her

 

Pansy wriggled, jolting slightly as Neville’s tongue flicked over her a few more times. “Nnnnrgh!”

 

“What? Are you okay?” Neville asked, clearly concerned.

 

Pansy, still panting, let out a laugh. “It’s really sensitive, you know, after…”

 

“Oh, sorry!”

 

“You should be, that was simply awful.”

 

He began to climb over her again. “You didn’t sound like you found it awful,” his eyes were full of want as he stared down at her. 

 

“Did I not?” she asked him, looking up at him. She bit her lip before continuing, “How did I sound, Neville?”

 

He lowered himself onto her once more in an instant and stole her lips with his own, she could taste herself on him as he deepened the kiss and as he pulled back, only enough to begin to nibble and gently suck on the side of her neck, she bit her bottom lip, rolling her head backwards as he spoke. 

 

“You  _ sounded  _ like you came... against my mouth,” he murmured, throatily. “And you  _ sounded  _ like you loved it,” he paused just enough to bite down on her neck, harder than before, “especially because you screamed the place down at the end.”

 

“Do you like it when I scream?” she whispered, trailing her fingers down Neville’s stomach as she did, relishing the way he groaned into her neck as she began to softly graze his length over his boxers. 

 

“I like it when  _ I _ make you scream,” he whispered. 

 

She grabbed his erect cock suddenly, making his body jolt. “Do you now?” 

 

He didn’t respond with any legible words, only strangled noises from somewhere deep in his throat. Pansy smirked in spite of herself, before placing her mouth next to his ear. “I want you.”

 

After a few seconds, they sat up, Neville back and up on his knees and Pansy forward, gripping his hips as she planted a series of soft kisses over his taut abdomen. His hands tangled their way through her hair and she glanced upwards just long enough to see his head roll back. She smirked again, and, placing her thumbs around the sides of his boxers, tugged the underwear downwards, revealing his entire, impressive length to her. 

 

It bobbed, close to her mouth, and she couldn’t resist, as much as it had never been her favourite sexual activity to engage in, taking as much of him in her mouth as she could, before slowly releasing him, running her tongue sloppily up his length to the tip, looking up at him, wantonly, as she did. 

 

This time, his eyes were directed downwards, and they met hers as she blinked upwards, looking as sultry as she could, before she dipped her head low again, taking him as deep as she could once more in the same way. Her tongue swirled around the tip as she brought it from her mouth again, and before Neville had a chance to finish his groan, she took his length back in her mouth, and this time did not do so slowly. Instead, she quickly moved her head up and down, smirking as she felt the hold he now had on her hair tighten. 

 

She pleasured him like that, alternating between fast and slow, until Neville told her, albeit begrudgingly, to stop. 

 

“Oh,” Pansy said, plastering her voice with a tone of innocence. “Are you not enjoying this?”

 

Within seconds, he’d leant down, his face mere millimetres from her own. “I think you  _ know  _ I am, but...I want…” he trailed off.

 

She kissed him once. “What do you want?”

 

“You know what I want.”

 

“Do you want to fuck me?”

 

“No,” he replied, placing a series of kisses over her jawline. “I want to make love to you.”

 

If anyone else had uttered the phrase in her presence, she would have openly scoffed at them, but somehow, in the confines of the greenhouse and with Neville lying her back down again, his lips kissing their way over her chest, her breasts and then back to her neck before continuing the cycle all over again, it was different. Neville made the phrase erotic and enticing, and everything she needed in that moment. 

 

A groan escaped her as she felt the tip of his erection against her still-soaking core, and she cried out loud, as did he, as he began to enter her. He did so slowly, tentatively, his movements lacking in the same surety he’d held only seconds ago, which, Pansy realised, remembering in a rush that this wasn’t just their first time, but Neville’s first time ever, he probably was unsure. 

 

“Is this okay?” he whispered somewhere close to her left ear. He was fully inside her now, and she felt his begin to rise up again. 

 

“This is...amazing,” she said breathlessly. “Go faster,” she whispered the words as Neville began to slowly enter her fully again.

 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

Smiling at his words, she tightened the grip she held on his shoulders. “Baby, you won’t hurt me.”

 

He took heed of her words silently, and began to quicken his pace, and for a while all that could be heard was their combined panting. Pansy’s legs snaked around Neville’s waist and she took it in turns to grip first his shoulders, then the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to meet hers, and then she trailed her fingertips down the side of his torso, gripping the side of his waist as he pounded in and out of her. 

 

“Pans-” 

 

“Harder!”

 

“Gods!”

 

“Mmm,” she moaned, grazing the side of his neck with her teeth, and when she knew he was particularly close, she bit down, hard, and then kissed the same spot repeatedly. He came over the course of his next few thrusts, and ended by kissing her fiercely, only drawing back to tell her he loved her before crashing his lips into hers again. 

 

“I love you, too,” she replied, between yet more kisses. “Fuck, Neville,” and he lifted his head slightly from hers and began to stroke the side of her face as she said his name, the truth of her words overcoming her as she spoke them. “I love you so much.”


	31. This Is Cosy

“So, Pans,” Theo nudged Pansy’s side playfully, “put me out of my misery.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “About what, exactly?”

 

“Your  _ nighttime rendezvous... _ in the greenhouse…” Theo continued to nudge her.

 

Pansy shot him a sideways glance, trying, and failing, to hide her smile. “It was...a lovely evening.”

 

Theo snorted. “What has he done to you?”

 

“That question has been asked rather a lot recently,” Pansy admitted, much to the further amusement of Theo.

 

“He’s good for you, Pans.”

 

Nodding slightly, more to herself than Theo, the corners of Pansy’s mouth twitched. “I know.”

 

The pair walked quickly. Neville had instructed them to meet himself and Luna Lovegood, of all people, in an empty classroom on the third floor corridor that was now rarely used. 

 

“Why Lovegood?” Theo hissed, and Pansy noticed his pace had slowed somewhat, she eyed him suspiciously. 

 

“She’s a big deal for their resistance club thing, I think, and I imagine she’s the one who’d be the most...understanding,” Pansy answered. “Why are you walking so slowly?”

 

“Lovegood, and I...well, right at the beginning of September, had an...encounter.”

 

Pansy’s eyes widened. “You...and Loony Lovegood?”

 

“She’s…” he trailed off, throwing a glare at Pansy as she began to laugh.

 

“You...and batshit crazy blondie,” Pansy gasped through her laughs. 

 

Theo shot Pansy a sideways glance at her words. “You’re so charming, has anyone ever told you that?”

 

Pansy straightened her back and lifted her face forward. “Lots of people have told me that.”

 

“Don’t tell Mills,” Theo snorted as they turned their final corner. “Must be one of these rooms.”

 

“That one,” Pansy said, confidently, as she pointed towards a door diagonally from them. It was incredibly familiar and she knew he’d choose that one, the same room that she’d pulled him into only a few days previous.  _ Months might as well have passed _ , Pansy thought with an inward sigh.

 

Pansy and Theo shot each other a final glance, before Pansy reached forward and grabbed the door handle, pulling the door ajar. 

 

Theo followed her inside, where they were met with not two, but three figures. 

 

Theo’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the three individuals. Pansy gulped, her eyes darting between Neville, Luna Lovegood.... and Ginny Weasley.  _ You never said anything about Weasley _ , she thought towards Neville. _.  _ Eventually settling her eyes, that were narrowing slightly, to solely rest staring into Neville’s. She said nothing, as did any of the others, until Neville himself eventually spoke. 

 

His eyes didn’t leave Pansy’s. “Ginny has a right to know,” he said simply. 

 

“You should have-” Pansy began.   
  


“A right to know  _ what,  _ exactly?” Ginny spat, her eyes were also fixed on Pansy’s face, just like Neville’s, only, unlike Neville, they were positively burning with hatred. 

 

Pansy felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle, part in shame and part in a conflicting annoyance. 

 

“Gin, it’s fine.”  _ Gin?  _

 

Her eyes refused to leave Pansy’s face. “You told me to trust you, Neville, and I do, but if you don’t mind, I’ll wait until I know what this is about to decide just how  _ fine  _ everything is.”

 

“Hi, Theo,” Luna suddenly spoke, out of nowhere, startling Pansy.

 

“Theo?” Ginny whirled around towards Luna, her face having contorted into a gobsmacked look.

 

“Yes, Ginny, this is Theo Nott,” Luna replied, airily, as though oblivious to the tension that was currently present. For all Pansy knew, she was, although a more reasonable conclusion would be that she simply chose to ignore it. 

 

“I know who he is!” Ginny snapped, “I just wasn’t aware you were on first name terms.”

 

“Oh, well, yes we are, I suppose.”

 

Theo did not reply straight away. Instead, it took Pansy elbowing him in the side for him to splutter an almost indecipherable, “Hi, Luna,” back at the Ravenclaw. 

 

Luna positively beamed at him, and Pansy couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of amusement at the exchange. Ginny, on the other hand, was clearly in no mood to feel amused and the fiery red head turned her head from Luna and, looking back up at Neville, spat a very pointed, “Tell me.” It wasn’t a question, or even a request. 

 

Neville let out a deep breath. “I’m not sure we shouldn’t go somewhere different,” he gestured vaguely around the empty classroom.

 

“Here is fine,” Ginny snapped.

 

Luna’s eyes flickered to various parts of the room. “It does have a nice enough aura.”

 

Pansy shot Theo a  _ Really?  _ Expression, before all four turned their attention back towards Neville. 

 

“Alright, Gin, first you need to know that all, or most, of the Slytherins that you think are going to become Death Eaters, aren’t. Pansy and Theo definitely aren’t.”

 

“‘Pansy’, ‘Theo’? So you’re on first name terms, too?”

 

“He’s on a bit more than that with Pansy,” Theo snorted.

 

Pansy groaned and hit Theo in the stomach as Ginny’s nostrils flared. “Neville,  _ please,  _ do  _ not _ tell me that he means what I think he means.”

 

Neville shook his head slightly once and crossed the few steps it took to reach Pansy’s side, “I can’t.” 

 

“You, you’ve been getting it on with  _ Parkinson _ ?” Ginny hissed, clearly in disbelief. “You? Neville Longbottom, leader of the DA, the person who was bullied by these arseholes for six years of his fucking life, is now screwing one of them!?”

 

“Alright, Gin, calm-”

 

“I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! HARRY IS OUT DOING MERLIN KNOWS WHAT TO DESTROY THE BASTARD THAT  _ THEY  _ CALL THEIR LEADER, AND YOU’RE SHACKING UP WITH  _ HER _ ! I mean, I knew she was easy, but I’d have expected more from you.”

 

“Alright Ginny, st-”

 

But Pansy’s resolve had cracked, there were only so many unpleasantries that any person can take being thrust at them, or the one they cared about most, without feeling the need to defend them, and Pansy’s amount was less than most. “Now just hang on a fucking second  _ Weasley, _ ” she spat Ginny’s name in exactly the same tone as Ginny had said hers in, “we aren’t  _ screwing,  _ as you so delightfully put it, and I am  _ not  _ ea-”

 

“Oh,  _ please,  _ next I’m going to hear that you’re in love, THIS IS A LOAD OF SHIT!”

 

“WILL YOU LET SOMEONE ELSE SPEAK!?” Pansy roared.

 

This time, the shout came from neither Ginny or Pansy. “ENOUGH!” Neville was standing, between the two witches with his arms outstretched. 

 

Neville faced Ginny, “I  _ do _ love her, and she’s  _ not,”  _ he purposefully waved the hand that was directed at her once more, as she opened her mouth, thankfully, she relented and allowed him to continue without interruption. Instead, she chose to glare at Pansy, to which Pansy shot just as equal an expression of dislike back at the Gryffindor, “what you think. She, and Theo, and Draco, and Millicent, and Daphne and Blaise all want nothing to do with You-Know-Who.”

 

Ginny swallowed, her brown eyes scrutinising. “How long?”

 

“Around Halloween, but I’ve had feelings for her since the start of the year.”

 

“That’s barely even  _ four months _ , Neville, you  _ can’t  _ possibly know-”

 

Pansy felt a gush of pride rise in her chest as Neville interrupted Ginny, his voice holding no shadow of doubt. “Yeah, I can.”

 

“She’s in your classes, she watches you get  _ tortured  _ every week, how can she love you if she can bear to watch that?”

 

“She throws up shields every time so that it’s not as bad, she’s the only reason I haven’t gone mad from it.”

 

Ginny remained unconvinced. “I’ve  _ seen  _ her torture students, Neville.”

 

Pansy let out a sigh, pointed her wand casually at Neville and lazily cast she and Draco’s homemade screaming spell. The result was instantaneous. Neville’s screams echoed around the room, the force of his own shouting knocked him forward onto his knees. Pansy winced as Ginny’s curse hit her, breaking her concentration on her own spell. 

 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Ginny yelled, “I KNEW-”

 

“You don’t know shit,” Pansy snapped, forcing herself to not wince in the aftermath of Ginny’s hex to her side, and with a smirk she couldn’t help, added, “how you feeling, babe?”

 

Neville had risen to his feet, and after shooting Pansy a brief look of exasperation at her show, was once again attempting to calm Ginny down. “It’s not what it looks like, it’s what Pansy and Draco do, it doesn’t cause any pain, you just scream. I’m fine.”

 

“Wha-”

 

“Don’t tell me  _ you  _ are actually lost for words, Weasley,” Pansy asked with a cock of her head.  

 

“But she’s Head Girl, she’s in deep with the Carrows-”

 

It was Pansy’s turn, once again, to interrupt. “The Carrows are the vilest and most idiotic people I’ve ever come across, but I  _ have  _ to be  _ in deep  _ with them because my family are  _ in deep  _ with the Dark Lord. I don’t act  _ in deep, _ I die.”

 

“Correct,” came a voice Pansy did not expect to hear, and the one that was possibly the worst she could hear at that moment. Her breath hitched somewhere close to her throat as the door was flung open, the realisation they had stupidly forgot to lock the door or cast a silencing charm washing over her. Alecto Carrow stood, menacingly, in the doorway. 

 

“Well, this is cosy.”

 

The reactions of the five teenagers were instantaneous. Neville, Theo and Ginny stepped forward, towards Alecto, Neville sidestepping to position himself in front of Pansy and Pansy noticed, even in spite of the Carrow-shaped distraction, that Ginny did the exact same, placing herself in front of Luna.  _ Interesting.  _

 

As it turned out, neither Neville or Ginny need have worried for Pansy or Luna, for their, along with Theo’s, stunning spells had all hit Alecto at the same time and the Death Eater was knocked unconscious within a few short seconds, hitting the ground with a hefty  _ thud.  _

 

For a long moment, no one spoke, until Luna, who alone seemed unphased by the intrusion noted that, “Well, that was interesting.”

 

“Not the word I’d use,” Pansy remarked, her fingers intertwining with Neville’s, something she noticed Ginny didn’t miss and she watched the way the redhead's eyes flickered between Pansy and Neville’s hands, Neville, and Luna. She evidently decided not to comment however, and her attention was broken by Theo. 

 

“So, what the fuck are we supposed to do with  _ her _ ?”

 

“Kill her?” Pansy offered, glancing at Neville, the images of him undergoing torture over and over at the hands of the woman roaming across her mind. 

 

“We can’t…” Neville began, unable to finish the sentence.

 

“Why?” Pansy demanded, “she’s been torturing you for-”

 

“I  _ know  _ that,” he interjected, his voice a tad sharper than she knew he meant. He squeezed her hand gently, “but we can’t just commit murder.  _ Could  _ you even...I don’t think I could, and I don’t want you to do it,” he added kindly. 

 

“I’m fairly certain I could, yes,” Pansy grumped. 

 

“You’d be looking at some very bad karma, Pansy, even though she’s a very bad person” Luna stated, as though she were discussing the weather. 

 

“Right,” Pansy mumbled, not at all sure what to respond to that.

 

Theo cleared his throat. “Well, we don’t want any bad karma, so why don’t we take her back to your dorm, Pans?”

 

“My...excuse me, why on Earth would I want  _ that _ in my dorm?”   
  


“Well, it’s not far from here, and-”

 

“I fail to see how that’s a good enough reason for-”

 

“It makes sense,” Neville said thoughtfully.

 

Pansy blanched and rounded on her boyfriend. “Excuse me?” she hissed. 

 

“Well, it’d give us time to think about what, you know, to do...with…” he gestured in the general direction of the comatose Death Eater. 

 

Speaking for the first time, Ginny, shooting Pansy a look of something not entirely full of the hatred she had expected. “It’s not  _ ideal,  _ but it’s the best plan we’ve got.”

 

“It’s the  _ only  _ plan we’ve thought of,” Pansy hissed, knowing she was entirely outnumbered. 

 

“Can you think of a better one, Pansy?” Luna asked, annoyingly chipper, at which Pansy breathed a sigh through her nose. 

 

“Fine! Fucking fine! Let’s get a fucking move on,” Pansy snapped, wrenching her hand from Neville’s and marched towards the door. “But you lot are moving the…” she halted, attempting to think of an apt enough insult.

 

“Cow?” Ginny offered.

 

Pansy whirled on the ball of her feet. “Don’t you ever insult cows like that in my presence, Weasley,” much to the amusement, despite their less than favourable circumstance, of the others. 

 

Opening the door, which was sitting ajar thanks to Alecto’s unconscious form lying in the doorway.  _ Shit.  _

 

Somehow, they managed to levitate Alecto and make it back to Pansy and Draco’s living quarters without being seen. The only problem that now remained was that the odd group was now standing in a semicircle, all staring down at the Death Eater. Alecto Carrow had been dropped on the floor, landing rather ungracefully with one leg bent backwards awkwardly. 

 

They remained there for several seconds, all five simply staring down at the comatose Alecto, and with the exception of a few wayward glances between each other, they didn’t move. 

 

Thankfully, negating the need for further small talk, the door that led to the rest of the head quarters swung open and a nonplussed Draco Malfoy stepped through, stopping suddenly at the sight of the unexpected group that were all now staring - now at Draco, unspeaking. 

 

“I’m guessing the meeting went...okay?” Draco queried, his brow furrowing as his eyes drifted over each of the others, in turn. 

 

“Not too shabby, mate, although we didn’t get a whole lot of meeting-ing done.” Theo ventured, “Weasley screamed a lot, so did Pans, Neville did too, a bit, and Love-err, Luna gave us a lesson in karma, oh, and we were caught by Alecto.”

 

“You were  _ what?”  _ Draco demanded, and Pansy didn’t miss the way his body language automatically shifted into a defensive stance. 

 

“Caught by Alecto,” Theo repeated, and Pansy rolled her eyes at the sheer blatantness that for some absurd reason Theo seemed to be enjoying himself. 

 

Draco, clearly already to exasperated by Theo to continue their exchange, rounded on Neville, something which in spite of the circumstances, Pansy found half annoying, and half endearing. 

 

Draco spoke directly to Neville. “What happened?” 

 

“Theo, Ginny and I stunned her,” Neville began to explain, “she took all three in the chest so I don’t think she’s waking up anytime soon.”

 

“Please tell me you didn’t leave her in an empty classroom.”

 

“Not quite,” Neville replied, before all five simultaneously shifted, and Draco’s, now wide eyed, gaze caught sight of a wave of ginger hair, which was currently sprawled, ungraciously, over his living room carpet. 


	32. Good People

It took Draco a long minute of staring at the comatose body of Alecto Carrow before he reacted, his pale face remaining utterly deadpan throughout.

 

“Right,” Draco began, blinking twice, “this complicates things.”

 

“It does a bit,” Theo replied, before clearing his throat and stepping over - and slightly on top of, Alecto’s arm, leaving a grubby mark upon the inside of her elbow, and made his way towards the couch. 

 

Draco, Pansy and Neville slowly followed suit, settling themselves in their usual positions, until only Ginny and Luna remained upright. The former, Pansy observed, was looking almost exclusively at the floor by her feet, whilst the latter wandered, seemingly aimlessly, around the small living room, examining various points with a serene expression on her face. She stopped just beneath the blue picture of the cupcakes that Pansy and Draco despised so much, yet it had transpired after several attempts at the beginning of term that the eyesore was magically stuck to the wall. 

 

“This is nice,” Luna observed, enthusiastically. 

 

“Thanks,” Draco replied dryly, as he exchanged a look with Pansy, who bit back her sudden desire to laugh. She knew exactly what Draco’s look meant, a very definite  _ what the actual fuck,  _ was present, hanging in the very air between them as Luna left her position by the painting, and made her way back towards Ginny. 

 

Draco took out his wand and brandished it towards the far corner of the room, near the door, where a pair of magically shrunken armchairs suddenly jumped up and grew to their intended size and, at Draco’s bidding, floated magically towards the small group. Pansy realised, only slightly too late, it had actually been entirely rude of her and Draco not to offer their seats to the two other girls first.  _ Oops. _

 

Ginny didn’t move, and simply watched the chairs settle themselves on the carpet closeby with a scrutinising expression. Luna, on the other hand, offered Draco a wide smile and a chipper, “Thanks!” before settling herself into the nearest armchair. 

 

“It isn’t cursed, Weasley,” Draco stated. 

 

Pansy noticed Ginny’s nostrils flaring slightly, before the redheaded witch gave Draco a curt nod and took the seat next to Luna. Her movements were stilted and her demeanor was entirely untrusting, but she remained silent, something Pansy realised she was glad of. 

 

“Well,” Theo said brightly with a single clap of his hands as he looked at each of the faces present in turn, “this is nice.”

 

Both Ginny and Draco snorted in unison at Theo’s words, before, after realising so, they exchanged a brief look of something that wasn’t quite understanding, but perhaps a slight shift towards being somewhere slightly closer to comfortable current events.

 

“You’re really on our side?” Ginny asked suddenly, and Pansy noticed that whilst her voice remained steady, she was ringing her hands together, whilst her eyes appeared wider than they should.

 

Pansy expected Draco to reply in a derisive tone and shoot something sarcastic, in a drawl that was wholly inappropriate given the circumstances, but for once he seemed intent on being as straight with Ginevra Weasley as the girl surely needed at that moment. “Yeah,” he replied, his gaze refusing to leave Ginny’s, as though he were intent on staring the truth into her, “I’m on your side.”

 

“But you have the mark?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Your father?”

 

“Is a piece of shit.”

 

Ginny swallowed at Draco’s words. “And your mother?”

 

“Is a fucking angel.”

 

It took a long minute for Ginny to reply, and no one spoke in the time it took her to nod. “I wouldn’t even think of believing any of you,” her fierce brown eyes swept across Draco, to Theo and eventually, to Pansy, “if I hadn’t just witnessed you both,” she nodded first at Pansy, and then at Theo, “stun her,” she nodded a third time, towards Alecto’s unconscious frame, “and you,” she nodded for a fourth and final time at Neville, “hadn’t vouched for them.”

 

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Neville said, his voice soft, “but they’re good people.”

 

“Not sure I’d go that far, Nev,” Theo suddenly remarked as he thumped Neville on the back, chuckling, “I’ve certainly never been called a good person before, have either of you?” he glanced first at Pansy and then Draco. 

 

“Can’t say I have, mate,” Draco replied with a snort. 

 

Pansy shot Theo, and then Neville, a brief smile. “Of course, it’s the first thing that comes to mind when anyone thinks of me.”

 

Her words earned her a collective snigger from around the small group. 

 

“What about her?” Ginny asked, looking over at Alecto.

 

“Don’t worry about her, we’ll sort it...she won’t remember finding you.”

 

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “H-how?” 

 

“Just... _ trust, _ ” Draco said the word as though barely believing it himself, “us.”

 

It took a few seconds before Ginny bowed her head, and seemed to give in to Draco’s words.

 

“Convinced yet, Weasley?” Theo asked.

 

“I am,” Luna piped up brightly. “I think we have just as many, if not more, reasons to trust them than not now.” She spoke directly to Ginny, turning her head to face the redhead, who gave another brief nod. 

 

“I...I think so,” Ginny stated. “I trust you,” she said, looking at Neville, “I always have.”

 

Pansy felt Neville gently ease his fingers into the spaces between her own. “Good,” he replied, and Pansy felt him give her hand a tight squeeze before he continued. “Unfortunately, there’s something else I need to tell you both.”

 

* * *

 

To her credit, Ginny sat for the entirety of Neville’s explanation of not only the ways in which the Slytherins were thwarting the Carrows, but of the fact they now had information on some of the immediate plans of not just the Carrows and the new permission from Snape that they had the right to kill Neville should they wish to, in January. Not to mention to very definite plans now in place for the remaining five Slytherins to take the mark, two as early as the very next month. 

 

Both Ginny and Luna remained silent long after Neville had finished speaking. Ginny’s eyes were wider still and she had the distinct look of one not entirely certain if they were on the edge of a vomiting fit. Luna’s expression, in stark contrast to Ginny’s, remained nonplussed, the same serene, almost a smile yet entirely not a smile etched upon her doe-like delicate features. 

 

It was Ginny who spoke first. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

 

Pansy swivelled her head to watch Neville’s reaction. He didn’t blink, nor look away from her face when he stated a very simple, yet fim, “Yes.” 

 

Not missing the way Ginny’s eyes flickered momentarily between Neville and Pansy’s clasped together hands. “Are you going because of the Carrows’ kill order?”

 

“No,” Neville answered.

 

Ginny’s expression was unreadable. “Our plans-”

 

“Haven’t changed,” Neville stated, his voice steady. “All the plans for all the meetings are done, for the next five months.”

 

Ginny’s eyes widened again. “The next  _ five  _ months?”

 

“I’m not prepared to leave without knowing you have everything you need to continue the DA, and you do. All the books we found are in there, I’ve marked all the pages you’ll need for the more advanced spells, I tried every one of them and was able to cast it on my third or fourth go. Get as many of them mastered as you can, after that it’s just a case of keeping everyone’s regular defense and attacking spells up the scratch, and to be honest, most of them are pretty good now.”

 

Ginny nodded, whilst Pansy wondered fleetingly what ‘D.A.’ stood for, she’d known that Neville championed their resistance, but he’d never spoke of it to her in any detail. 

 

“I get it, although more so because of the fact we know the Carrows are going to literally kill you. You could’ve just stayed, you know, where we stay,” her eyes flashed between the present Slytherins, clearly unwilling to reveal too much of where the students had been practising? Staying? Living? Pansy didn’t know, “but I know you couldn’t stay there for months on end.”

 

Beside Pansy, Neville’s head shook. “It’s not feasible. And, I want to help them,” he squeezed Pansy’s hand tighter. “They need to be away from Death Eaters, even,” Neville’s eyes briefly hovered over Alecto, “really stupid ones. They’ll stop at nothing, way more than now, to find me if they think I’m hiding  _ in  _ the castle. I need to actually leave.”

 

“I’m terribly sorry your life has been threatened in this way, Neville.” Luna offered out of the blue. 

 

“Thanks, Luna.”

 

The blonde shot him a wide, and what Pansy assumed was supposed to be supportive, smile, and said no more. 

 

It took her awhile before she spoke again, but eventually Ginny did. “I’m not going to pretend I like this.”

 

“I don’t expect you to,” Neville replied. “I know you probably feel I’m abandoning you, all of you,” Pansy felt his shoulders slump slightly beside her, “and a big part of me feels like that, too.”

 

Running the pad of her thumb up and down the back of Neville’s hand, Pansy couldn’t help but feel an awkward sense that she was intruding on something private, something intimate - not in the sense that she and Neville were, but she could see now that Neville and Ginny were clearly a team, an  _ important  _ team, a team that she supposed she were responsible for breaking up. 

 

“If I’m honest,” Ginny began, “it’s hard not to...but,” she took a deep breath, “if it were Luna,” she briefly glanced at the blonde beside her, “I’d do the same thing.”

 

Pansy’s mind immediately pictured the scene in the empty classroom where Neville had positioned himself between Pansy and Alecto, and Ginny had done the same for Luna.  _ Knew it.  _

 

“If, for some bizarre reason, I found out she’d been shortlisted to receive the dark mark, whilst I had an actual target on my back, yeah. I think I would,” she paused, clearly taking stock of the weight of the situation. “What about if X happens? Will you come back?”

 

Neville shifted slightly. “Yes, of course. In a heartbeat. I’ll have the coin, and I’ll get a message to Aberforth about what to do if I need to return. I’ll listen, as well, I have a small portable I can take. I’ll listen as often as I can, hopefully on the same time every day.”

 

“X?” Draco interjected, voicing the shared confusion of Pansy, Theo and himself.

 

Ginny regarded him somewhat coolly, before a quick glance at Neville, who nodded, and said, “X is the possibility that Harry needs us all to fight.

  
  


* * *

 

 

“If you’d have told me before the start of this year that I’d be in bed with Neville Longbottom, celebrating the fact that Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood are on board with you running away with me and my group of heathen Slytherins, I’d have asked to have a drag of whatever you’d been smoking,” Pansy stated, later that same day as she lay in Neville’s arms, her back flush with his front as they contemplated the events of the day. 

 

Neville chuckled, the sound reverberating through his  chest and into Pansy’s back, and it made her hum quietly, despite the impending truth that came with their meeting with Ginny and Luna: they were leaving. It was now as official as it could be. 

 

Dipping his head low, Pansy felt him place a soft kiss on the side of her neck, making her hum turn into something a little less like a hum and a little more like a moan. 

 

“I could listen to you make those noises all day,” Neville whispered, hovering just above Pansy’s neck. 

 

“Then do that,” Pansy instructed, reaching her hand back to graze the side of Neville’s thigh, a movement which elicited a throaty groan from the Gryffindor. 

 

“I can’t,” he said eventually, “you know I need to go.”

 

“I’m afraid I know no such thing,” Pansy countered. “In fact, I don’t think you need to go anywhere.”

 

It was the biggest lie they both knew she could tell in that moment, and it made Neville emit a small laugh before, using his arm, he lifted Pansy’s head around, enabling him to meet her lips with his own. “I gotta go,” he said between kisses.

 

It was Pansy’s turn to groan, though this time not in pleasure as she let out an exaggerated whine of disapproval when Neville began to detangle himself from her. Since it was so close to the Christmas holidays, with the train due to depart from Hogsmeade station in just two days time, Pansy and Neville had agreed that Neville spend the remainder of that time with his friends, explaining as much as he could. Ginny and Luna having promised to keep the real reasons for his departure to themselves, why he would be leaving. It was important to him that he return to wherever they were staying that night. Something that Pansy definitely understood, but entirely disliked. 

 

She propped herself up using her elbows and watched him dress, smirking to herself as she examined his, as Daphne called it,  _ kneazle tail _ running down from his belly button, southwards. 

 

“Hey, my face is up here, you know,” Neville said, jokingly, and Pansy smirked again. 

 

“I know exactly where your face is Neville, thank you very much,” Pansy replied, not moving her eyes from the spot at the base of her boyfriend’s stomach. 

 

He snorted a laugh and, much to Pansy’s annoyance, brought a t shirt down over his head, concealing the line of hair that was the centre of her entertainment. 

 

“Spoil sport,” she huffed, and pouted as he leant down and brought his face close to hers, gracing her with a far quicker peck than she would have liked, before standing straight again, shooting her a quick, “Love you,” and exiting Pansy’s bedroom

 

Slumping back against her pillows, Pansy swallowed. She knew that Draco had wanted to have one last occlumency session with her before they made their escape, but the desire to find him to start simply wasn’t within her. It wasn’t the occlumency itself now, Pansy having gotten rather effective at keeping Draco out of her mind, that put her off, that she tired of. It was the mental exhaustion she tended to feel afterwards. They also had the still unconscious Death Eater they’d felt no rush to waken to deal with. 

 

Supposing she ought to find her roommate, Pansy propped herself up once more, surprised when a small rap on her bedroom door interrupted her thoughts.  _ Must’ve forgotten something,  _ Pansy mused and, with a sly smile, pulled the duvet from herself, revealing her naked self to her slightly chilly bedroom, and, putting on the most sultry voice she could, said, “Forget something?”

 

The door opened and revealed, not Neville, as Pansy had assumed, but Millicent, who had began to say something akin to, “Sorry for barging in-” when her words stopped dead in their tracks as a very naked Pansy squealed, hurriedly throwing her duvet back over herself.  _ Merlin fuck! _

 

Pansy coughed and mumbled a brief, “Thought you were Neville,” before summoning some nearby clothes, which she then put on, with great difficulty, under the cover. 

 

“That’s alright,” Millicent replied as she stepped into the bedroom and made her way towards the seat at Pansy’s dressing table. “I still live with Daph and Blaise, and I see both of them in various states of nakedness on a regular basis.”

 

“They aren’t exactly fans of subtlety,” Pansy agreed, and, finally having reached a level of decency, pulled the cover back and positioned herself atop the bedclothes. “How are you?”

 

At her question, Pansy watched Millicent’s shoulders drop slightly. She didn’t reply. 

 

“Mills?”

 

Pretending to examine some of the items atop Pansy’s dressing table, Millicent was barely audible. “Hmm?”

 

“What’s wrong? Is it Theo?”

 

“No,” Millicent mumbled, “Theo is...he’s great.”

 

“But you aren’t great?”

 

Millicent turned back to face Pansy and the bed, and Pansy watched the way she swallowed, clearly not wishing to share whatever was bothering her. 

 

“Mills?” Pansy said for the second time, “is it about the plan? About leaving?”

 

Again, the other girl didn’t reply, but this time she did incline her head slowly, nodding slowly.

 

“Are you worried?” Pansy asked before internally scolding herself.  _ Of course she’s fucking worried.  _

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

“Of course,” Pansy replied, “Yeah I’m...I’m really worried.”

 

“Aren’t you scared about what they’re going to do to your parents when you disappear?”

 

Pansy snorted in response and then immediately regretted doing so. For when you hate your parents it can be easy to forget that others don’t, and just like Daphne and very unlike Pansy, Millicent was close to her parents. Extremely close. And Pansy realised it was something she hadn’t considered, especially since she knew that Daphne’s mum would hopefully go into hiding. Feeling all of a sudden entirely guilt ridden that she hadn’t considered what would happen to Millicent’s parents, Pansy sighed. 

 

“I don’t care about what they do to mine,” Pansy admitted, “but I don’t want anything to happen to yours.”

 

“Me neither. Pans what if they’re killed? Or tortured?”

 

The possibility was probably higher than either of them would admit, Pansy knew. But the possibility of Millicent going home and being prepped to take the mark seemed worse. “They’d want you to be safe,” she offered. It was entirely the truth she knew, but probably not what Millicent neither needed nor wanted to hear in that moment.  _ What,  _ exactly, Pansy  _ could  _ tell her friend that wasn’t an outright lie, she didn’t know. 

 

“You’re still coming though, right? Mills, they’d want you to be safe.”

 

“I...yeah, I am, I just...this is hard. Theo tries but he just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand how I can’t be completely okay with not getting on the train.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Pansy admitted honestly. “Could you try and get a message to them once you’ve left Hogsmeade?”

 

“I don’t want to, I mean, I do...of course I do, but if it were found, they’d definitely be punished.”

 

“You could try, make sure to say to destroy it or something.”

 

“It’s not just that,” Millicent said, and Pansy noted the way her eyes filled with tears. “They’ll never understand because they’ve already chosen his side. I love them so much, but they’re on his side, and,” her voice had cracked and was barely louder than a whisper, “if I’m not...what if they want nothing more to do with me...ever.” 


	33. Rennervate

“Rennervate.”

 

Pansy watched as a pair of cool blue eyes opened and closed several times, acclimatising with the bright and strange surroundings their owner was now situated in. Wrinkling her nose as her hatred of the woman on the floor in front of her bubbled close to her surface, Pansy felt invisible sparks dance over her bare forearms: pure magic. 

 

“What in the-”

 

“Shut up,” Draco interrupted Alecto’s intoxicated-sounding question. His wand was pointed firmly at the woman’s chest, his hand steady as a rock, no trace of emotion present on his pale features. Turning to Pansy, Draco asked, “What classroom was it?”

 

“Third floor, one of the ones on the East side,” Pansy replied, “it’s hardly used.”

 

Draco nodded. “Okay. You,” he jabbed his wand a half inch towards Alecto, whose eyes widened but surprisingly she made no move to oppose the Head Boy.  _ Probably because I’ve got your wand,  _ Pansy thought with a smirk, twirling the unfamiliar wood absentmindedly between her fingers. “You are going to forget everything that happened just before you entered the third floor-”

 

“Wait,” Pansy interjected, “can you make her stand up first?”

 

Draco’s eyebrows rose a fraction, but he didn’t query Pansy’s request, instead he simply flicked his wand in Alecto’s general direction and commanded, “You heard her, get up.”

 

Alecto, unable to defy his words due to the still very much active Imperius Curse, got shakily to her feet. “This is-”

 

This time it was Pansy who interrupted the older witch. “Shut up!” before she deposited the strange wand on a surface behind her and took three solid steps forward, making her square with Alecto, who immediately threw her hands towards Pansy’s face, only to be rendered unable to move by a sharp instruction to remain still by Draco. 

 

Taking one step backwards a fraction of a second before her arm followed suit. “One day, I’ll kill you for what you do to him, but for now, this’ll do.” With a crunch more sickening than she had anticipated, Pansy’s fist collided with Alecto’s nose, and Alecto herself fell, ungracefully, backwards. Shaking her dully aching wrist up and down, Pansy turned back towards Draco and moved to her original position. “As you were,” she said to the amused looking Draco.

 

Draco nodded, raised his wand once more and cleared his throat before stating, clearly, “You are going to forget everything that happened just before you entered the third floor. You are to forget everything that happened from that point onwards.” Alecto’s eyes were untroubled and her face looked serene as Draco spoke. “You will now go find your pillock of a brother and tell him that you broke your nose running into a tree, when he asks why the fuck you ran into a tree, you will tell him you were being chased by a Centaur. When he asks what you were doing near the Centaur you will tell him you tried to attack the creature, and failed. Understood?”

 

Alecto nodded once, evidently unable to hear or pay attention to either Pansy’s bark of laughter, or her rushed, “Draco, he’ll never buy that”. Nor did she seem to notice when Draco replied, “Yeah he will, I would.” Instead, she simply turned, took her wand form a reluctant Pansy at Draco’s request, and left. 

 

Turning to Draco with her eyebrows raised, the image of Alecto telling her twin that she broke her nose running into a tree waving in front of her mind’s eye giving her something, even if small, to smile about. 

 

“At least that’s one problem out of the way,” he noted, and Pansy nodded in agreement. 

 

“Do you still want to do an occlumency practice?” she asked, hoping, though not hopeful, that he’d decline.

 

“You’ve had a long day,” Draco replied, and Pansy’s eyebrows must have all but disappeared at his words, “we’ll do a final one before the holiday tomorrow night. Go wash your hair or your...skin, or whatever girls do to relax.”

 

Pansy chuckled and rolled her eyes simultaneously. “Yeah, great...I’ll go wash my skin. Thanks Draco,” she added, reaching forward and giving his forearm a quick squeeze before making her way towards the door that led to the rest of the quarters, and the bath that would relaxingly wash her skin. 

 

* * *

 

The next day Pansy awoke with struggled breath, her own elevated heart beat pounding in her ears and the stark realisation that the first stage of their plan, which didn’t actually involve her directly, was happening the very next day. 

 

The faces of each of her friends swam in front of her mind’s eye as she lay, half wishing that she’d awoken the day after, much preferring action, as risky as it was, than the waiting for said action. 

 

Turning to her left, Pansy took a long, shaky breath and a small cardboard box, featuring several holes stamped through the top, drew her attention. 

 

“Only a few more days,” she croakily informed the box, a soft smile creeping onto her worried face in spite of the palpitations her heart had now decided to grace her with. Swallowing, as she silently instructed her heart to  _ fucking stop it,  _ Pansy rose from her bed. 

 

She and Draco’s plans for the day were straightforward; spend time with Winky to finalise everything they would take with them on the run, practise occlumency one last time, and finally make their way to the Slytherin dungeons, where Theo was insisting the six friends experience  _ one last night of debauchery _ in what had been their home for most of their Hogwarts education. 

 

As Pansy made her way down the stairs to the living quarters, the unmistakable scent of Winky’s signature eggs and bacon assaulted her nostrils, just as the sound of Draco’s mumbled, yet Pansy could tell irate, voice met her eardrums. Opening the door, she found the pair engaging in what appeared to be having a heated discussion.

 

“-cannot do without, we may have to be on our feet for hours at a time!” Draco looked exasperated as he yelled at the elf.

 

“Everybody going is able to apparate!” Winky snapped back, clearly refusing to address Draco with any form of title. 

 

“They are a necessity!” 

 

“Food is necessity, oh yes it is, and water, and heat,” Winky retorted, her large tennis ball eyes meeting Pansy’s as the witch silently slid into her usual spot, “but one hundred pairs of extra socks are not, no they  _ are not _ ! And Winky will hear no different, no she won’t!” The small elf didn’t wait for a response from Draco’s reddened face, and promptly stomped away, her long bunny ears bouncing slightly with each step. 

 

Pansy blinked, and it took all the resolve she had not to laugh in Draco’s face, a feat she only managed knowing that he was likely feeling a heightened sense of stress at the prospect of returning to the manor the following day.  _ But still _ , she mused to herself,  _ one hundred pairs of socks  _ is _ ridiculous. _

 

“Is, ah...Winky making breakfast? Smells good…” Pansy trailed off as Draco shot her a dark look. 

 

“The socks can be shrunk, and  _ she,”  _ he inclined his head towards the door that Pansy had come from, and that Winky disappeared out of, “knows that!” 

 

“Well, yes, I suppose they can...but one hundred pairs?”

 

“I  _ like  _ to wear a new pair often, Pansy!”

 

Breakfast was something of a strained affair, with Draco glowering into his eggs and Winky scowling as she went about her usual morning tidy up of the living area, but eventually once the plates had been cleared away, and Pansy had tried three separate times to make small talk, there was little else to do but get on with their planning. 

 

As it turned out, socks were not the only things that Draco and Winky disagreed on, and Pansy found herself playing the role of referee more than once between the irritated Slytherin and the disgruntled house-elf. 

 

“That is ENOUGH!” Pansy heard her own voice shout over the din of the other two voices. Turning to her right, she addressed her ex-boyfriend, “Draco, you can take the ones you feel are  _ actually  _ important, but leave the rest, and,” she swivelled to her left, now facing Winky, “Winky, he will carry them  _ himself,”  _ she said the last word pointedly. “Do I make myself clear?!” She cried the latter words to neither in particular, at which two mumbled  _ yes’  _ could be heard. Taking a long, drawn out breath, Pansy closed her eyes.“Thank you!” 

 

It took most of the morning, but by lunchtime Pansy, Draco and Winky were clear in all the aspects of what was to happen in regards to their escape. Winky, as luck would have it, had informed Draco and Pansy something they were both unaware of: house-elves could apparate in and out of Hogwarts. 

 

“Does that mean,” Draco had asked, his brow furrowed in curiosity, “you can apparate others in and out?”

 

“That’s such a flaw in the castle’s security,” Pansy had offered absentmindedly, not noticing Winky walk up to Draco.

 

“Only one way to find out, oh yes there is.” 

 

Pansy had barely blinked, where one second ago both Draco and Winky were situated, now stood an empty armchair, and the echo from the loud crack of Winky’s apparition hanging in the air. Another second later and a similar crack brought both figures back into Pansy’s line of sight. The bigger of which, was looking aghast.

 

“You can’t just...take someone like...bloody Hogsmeade….freezing!” 

 

“Hush hush,” Winky shushed with a wave of her hand. “Now we know it does mean that Winky can apparate others past the enchantments of the castle, oh yes we do. Means Winky will be able to apparate Mistress Pansy, and Mister Neville away, oh yes, Winky thinks so!”

 

“Why is  _ she  _ still getting called ‘Mistress’? You haven’t even called me ‘Sir’ in weeks! It’s really not acceptable, Winky!”

 

Winky point blank ignored Draco’s question. “Not acceptable, oh ho ho, is that right?” The small elf turned her back on Draco and his outraged expression, and winked at Pansy. “Now, Winky is going to sort some lunch, oh yes she is!”

 

* * *

 

It was mid afternoon by the time they began to make their way down the familiar passage to the Slytherin dungeons  _ for the last time,  _ Pansy deliberated to herself sadly. For so many years, this walk, and their destination, had served as a surety; a home and a place that they belonged to, and that equally belonged to them. Now, it was a stark reminder that nothing in their lives was a surety, and  _ home  _ seemed something of an abstract context which arguably no longer existed, or  _ would  _ no longer exist, in a few days time. 

 

Reaching the expanse of wall where their dungeons lay behind, Pansy glanced sideways at Draco, who nodded and gave her the smallest of supportive smiles. They remained silent, yet Pansy knew their thoughts were as one: this was the  _ last _ time.

 

Upon entering the common room, the pair found a number of Slytherin students of varying ages, from tiny first years, to Crabbe and Goyle, who were located near a far window. At the sight of Draco, both his ex friends waved enthusiastically, to which Draco shot the two a look of disgruntled disgust, and led Pansy through the room, towards the dormitories. 

 

The room was exactly the same as Pansy had always remembered, the beds, desks and trunks looked no different. The only thing that  _ was  _ different, she supposed, was everything. 

 

Theo was the first to acknowledge their entrance, and let out a roar of delight before clumsily diving across a nearby bed and engulfing both Draco and Pansy in a large bear hug. “I fucking  _ love  _ you two,” he choked through what Pansy realised was sobs. 

 

“Are you crying?” Draco demanded, shaking Theo’s emotional form from him. 

 

Theo sniffed, but didn’t reply, instead pressing himself into Pansy further. 

 

From somewhere to her left, Pansy heard Blaise cough. “He started a little early on the debauchery.”

 

“Theo,” Draco began, “you’re pissed.”

 

“ _ You’re _ pissed,” Theo quipped, his voice slurred. 

 

Pansy patted the back of Theo’s left shoulder. “It’s okay Theo, go sit back down.”

 

“Okay Pans, you’ve always been my favourite, have I ever told you that?”   
  


Pansy chuckled lightly. “I’m everyone’s favourite.”

 

As Theo made his way back over to his bed, Pansy smirked as Draco began to exclaim how rude it was to favour Pansy in his presence. 

 

“Drink?” Blaise offered, and both Draco and Pansy nodded gratefully. Shooting Draco a brief glance, Pansy wondered how he was going to cope on the run, his drinking at Hogwarts, as much as she tried to dampen his intake, she wasn’t his carer and had no control over his stash, most of which she knew was kept in his room and locked with a special key Pansy suspected he’d purchased in Knockturn Alley. Pansy didn’t know if she truly knew who a sober Draco Malfoy was anymore, the thought seemed to taint her own drink with a bitterness she found hard to swallow. 

 

The afternoon soon rolled into the evening, and though the six friends tried to relax, Pansy knew the uncertainty of the next few days was hanging over each of them like a dark cloud, never quite allowing the laughter to exist without being laced with the apprehension that held the group, both individually and as a whole. 

 

Eventually, as Pansy had known it would, the talk shifted to their escape. Most of the details were finalised. Theo, Blaise, Daphne and Millicent were leaving together, from Hogsmeade, apparating in pairs to just outside Inverness, where they would then wait out and hide, to make sure their apparition wasn’t traced somehow, with Theo and Blaise wanted by Voldemort in only a few short weeks. Once clear, they would make their way to a village in the area of Moray, not for South of Inverness, where villages were scattered through the countryside and hard to find. 

 

Pansy and Neville, apparated by Winky, were to go to a different village, after Christmas, a few miles from the one the others were travelling to, and make their way on foot to meet up with the rest. Hopefully they could remain undetected, using small B&Bs and guesthouses with confunded, until after the New Year, when Draco would join them. 

 

“Okay, Pans,” Blaise was saying, having toured the Highlands with his mother and one of her husbands once upon a time, but thankfully had always possessed a near eidetic memory,and had formulated the geographical part of their escape with ease. “Craigellachie is about a mile away from Aberlour, where we,” he glanced around, his eyes meeting Daphne’s first and then Millicent’s, “should be. The river Spey runs right through and there are benches on the banks, at a grassy bit in the middle of the village, we’ll wait for you there on the twenty-seventh.”

 

“Okay.” Pansy nodded. “It should work.”

 

“It should,” Blaise agreed. 

 

Longer term, their plans were less meticulous. International apparition depended on a slightly different and more concentrated magic, even passing your apparition exam didn’t guarantee success, not to mention it was easier to track. International portkeys weren’t feasible, as none of the group knew how to charm one and all the existent ones were in the hands of the ministry, which meant they were guarded by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Staying in Britain was both incredibly unsafe and yet still their safest option. 

 

The general consensus was that they remain North, using the sparsely populated Highlands as their cover, never slacking on concealment charms or letting their guard down. 

 

Once the formalities, once more, had been pushed out of the way, the group collectively insisted that it was spoken of no more throughout the evening, and although trickles of the topic crept into various other conversations, on the most part, they managed to avoid talking about the next few days, instead savouring on the memories they shared, and the times they’d spent together. 

 

Neville’s name, or a few variations - including Nev, and Longbottom, and Pansy’s mate, crept up every so often, and Pansy found a warm glow seemed to stir in her stomach whenever it did. This year, or  _ term,  _ she supposed, reminding herself that it was only December, and they had only been back in the castle since the beginning of September. It was three, almost four, months that in another world may have been a lifetime. They had done what everyone had never believed that Slytherins could, or would, ever do: they had accepted him. They  _ liked  _ him. 

 

It was Pansy, though, that had achieved the unthinkable. Pansy loved him. 

 

“Can you believe we’ll never be in this room again?” Daphne ventured, her voice hitched slightly, and though they had all unspeakingly agreed to avoid the topic, Pansy could see by the pained look on her best friend’s face, that some things needed to be said aloud, no matter how painful. 

 

“I... _ hic... _ love this ‘oom,” Theo offered, much to the surprise of the others, having believed him unconscious for the majority of the past hour and a half. “And you lot,” he let out a high pitched giggle before continuing, “Yeah, I love you lot.” 

 

Smiling softly at the once more unconscious Theo, Pansy found her eyes drifting to Millicent, who was staring down at her boyfriend’s face, a distinct look of sadness, laced with something Pansy couldn’t quite place, present in the dark haired witch’s eyes. 

 

She seemed to sense she was being watched, and Millicent’s gaze snapped to meet Pansy’s.

 

_ You okay? _ Pansy mouthed, not missing the way Millicent’s coffee brown eyes were now swimming with unspilt tears.  _ Wanna talk? _ she mouthed the further question, glancing around quickly to ensure none of the others had noticed. Shaking her head in response, Millicent didn’t give any other reply, but Pansy had the distinct impression that there were a great number of words that wished to be heard from her friend’s mouth, that possibly never would be. 

 

Pansy wished she could tell her friend how it would be okay, but blind faith with no solid backing wasn’t the type of support that Pansy believed in. She wouldn’t lie to Millicent, as much as she could, and in that moment probably should. 

 

Because Pansy simply  _ didn’t  _ know it was going to be okay. 

 

And if she was entirely honest with herself, it probably wasn’t.

  
  



	34. Presents

Pansy had thought it that the others leaving would be a long, dragging process, something drawn out, and most likely painful. Instead, it was sudden, and felt over in an instant. 

 

“Good luck,” she breathed, holding Daphne for minute longer than she probably should have, purposefully saying her goodbyes to the others first.

 

Daphne tried, unsuccessfully to hide the wobble in her voice. “We’ll see you  _ soon, _ ” the blonde replied with a watery smile. 

 

“You will,” Pansy. “ _ Really _ soon.”

 

She didn’t realise just how not ready she was to see Blaise’s hand reach for Daphne’s shoulder, signalling to both girls that it was time. Feeling the same wobble in her own emotions, Pansy forced her eyes away from Daphne’s face, knowing that tears that were a mere fraction way from cascading down her pale cheeks were going to make her lose face. It was a blessing, surely, that the Carrows were nowhere around. 

 

Looking at each of her friends in turn, Pansy took in a deep breath through her nose, and nodded. “I love you all,” her gaze rested, finally, on Draco. “Be safe.”

 

He dropped his head in a single, expressionless nod. “Bye, Pans.”

 

The others echoed his farewell, each taking a moment to linger their gaze on Pansy’s face for an extra moment, as a thousand silent notions of  _ good luck  _ passed between the united Slytherins. 

 

As they turned to leave, Pansy noticed a very similar scene to her right, where a bunch of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and a few spare Hufflepuffs were turning and walking away from a familiar figure. 

 

He didn’t look at her in return, but the soft smile that crossed his lips and softened his features told her that he wanted to. 

 

_ Get it together, Pansy.  _

 

She turned on the ball on her foot, and took a few steps away from the Entrance Hall. “ _ Please  _ don’t tell me it’s just me and you staying here over Christmas,  _ Longbottom.” _

 

He offered her something halfway between a smile and a smirk. “Looks like it is, how  _ unlucky  _ for you.”

 

“Just...stay out of my way.” Pansy narrowed her eyes, in the same way she knew meant that he most definitely was having conflicting thoughts over snapping a feigned snarky remark back at her, or slamming her against the pillar that was standing closeby. 

 

“Duly noted.”

 

Keeping her face nonchalant, thankful for the distraction from her friends leaving, knowing that all but one of them wasn’t even going to board the train...all going to plan, that was, Pansy, not looking back, began to walk towards the stairs, making sure to exaggerate the sashay of her hips as she did. 

 

* * *

 

She hadn’t been back at the Head’s quarters for ten minutes before a quick rap at the door drew her attention from the glass she’d only had the chance to take one sip from. 

 

Pansy kept her voice light. “Good morning, Neville.”

 

“You...are a tease.”

 

Gasping, theatrically, Pansy flung one hand to her chest. “Me?!”

 

He took the step it took to close the gap between them, and she felt first a delicate sweep of his fingertips, and then the firmer grip of his palms over each side of her waist. “Yes, you.” he began, planting a swift peck on her lips. “Are you okay?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“I know,” he kissed her again, before moving his arms upwards, still round her, to encase her shoulders, pulling her as close to him as he was able. “They’ll be fine.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

He didn’t reply, instead planting a soft peck on the top of her head. Wrapping her own arms around his waist, Pansy inhaled the scent of him. It was mostly earthy, a smell that once upon a time would have caused her nose to wrinkle as she imagined dirt. Now, however, she wished to bottle it and wear it as a perfume whenever he wasn’t around. 

 

“They will,” he said, and Pansy knew he was forcing a confidence. “And so will we.”

 

“And Dr-”

 

His voice was firmer this time, and Pansy didn’t know if it was fully for her benefit, or for his as well. “And Draco.”

 

“Okay,” she squeaked in reply, willing herself to believe him. 

 

Kissing the top of Pansy’s head again, Neville squeezed her tighter. “Hey, it’s almost Christmas.”

 

Pansy’s mind immediately brought her to a place of stilted conversation and gifts no child would ask for; tombs of pureblood ancestry and piles upon piles of dress robes. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Pansy cursed the tears that betrayed her, spilling onto Neville’s chest. She wasn’t sure if he felt them, or the shake that came from her rapidly failing attempt at not bursting into tears. 

 

“Hey,” he repeated softly. “What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

 

“No,” Pansy gasped in reply, between the sobs that were now entirely impossible to either ignore, or hide. “You didn’t...I’m sorry...I-”

 

Guiding her gently, Neville led the pair over to the nearby couch. Once seated, he wasted no time in pulling her into his lap. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

 

“I’ve just never...really liked...Christmas,” she managed, the words sounding too feeble to properly convey her sadness, too nostalgic to feel the embarrassment that would no doubt overcome her soon. 

 

“I don’t really like it either, if I’m honest,” Neville began as Pansy nuzzled her face into the side of his neck. “Gran always ended up stressed, my uncle Algie was always drunk before we even ate Christmas dinner, and my auntie Enid, bless her heart, would always buy me the same toy broomstick set. 

 

“You?” Pansy asked in disbelief. She recalled seeing Neville on a broomstick once, in first-year, and she was fairly certain he’d broken his wrist before any of the rest of the class had even left the ground. 

 

Neville snorted a laugh. “What, you don’t think that me and anything remotely related to flying mix?”

 

“I definitely do not,” Pansy replied, granting his a quick kiss on the neck. “Gods, I’m terribly sorry about that.”

 

“What?”

 

“That positively shameful Hufflepuff-esc display you just had to witness.”

 

Tightening the hold his arms held around her, Neville chucked. “You’re forgiven.”

 

“And you better tell no one,” Pansy stated, her voice falsifying a threatening tone. 

 

Neville’s hand wound its way to the side of Pansy’s head, and using it, he guided her lips to meet his once, twice, and then three times, before replying, “Who would even believe me if I did?”

 

“Well, there is that.”

 

“But, your sensitive, lovely secret...that Pansy Parkinson is capable of feelings, is safe with me.”

 

“Most appreciated,” she replied, before snaking her own arm up and running her fingers through his hair, and pushing all doubt and worry over her friends into kissing what might, actually, surprisingly, be a chance - for both of them, to have a good Christmas. 

 

* * *

 

 

They had a few days, three to be exact, between the start of the Christmas holidays, and Christmas day. To Pansy and Neville, that meant three full days of almost entirely uninterrupted quality time. The majority of which was spent in Pansy’s bed...as well as on Pansy’s desk, against Pansy’s wall, and, at Pansy’s insistence, much to Neville’s amusement, on Draco’s chair. 

 

“Didn’t he once say he’d hex my dick off for this?” Neville asked, panting. A collective groan escaped them, as Pansy positioned herself over his erection, and softly began to move downwards, over him.

 

Snorting a laugh, Pansy replied, “He did.”

 

He grinned up at her, as she slowly moved up and down, gaining a controlled rhythm. “Well, that’s fantastic.” Reaching around her, Pansy let out a surprised squeal as Neville’s hands tightly gripped her behind. “As is this.”

 

“It surprises me that you’re an arse man,” Pansy observed, determined to move achingly slowly, she leant down to offer him a quick kiss, letting out a moan as Neville’s hands began to softly run over her behind. 

 

“Don’t think I don’t love these just as much!” His hands left their position and moved around her body, and had began to caress her breasts, gently at first, but as Pansy’s leaned down to kiss Neville again, his pressure increased, pinching and rolling the sensitive points between his thumb and forefinger. 

 

“Mmmm,” Pansy moaned, arching her back, pushing her breasts towards him and the movements of his fingertips, she continued to maneuver herself up and down. 

 

Using the back of the chair to balance herself better, Pansy’s moans became more strangled as she felt one of Neville’s hands leave her left breast, the other remaining very firmly in place on her right. His  spare hand moved southwards, and began to stroke her most sensitive point. “Ohhh, oh God-” but the rest of her exclamation was lost as Neville’s mouth began to roam over her neglected breast. 

 

It didn’t take long for her to reach her climax as she increased her pace and Neville increased his own, and before long she was positively screaming, relishing in the fact the living quarters were deserted, save for themselves. 

 

Neville’s orgasm quickly followed suit as he gripped the sides of her thighs, groaning against Pansy’s mouth as her movements began to dwindle. “Gods, I love you,” he said. 

 

“I love you too,” Pansy gasped, suddenly exhausted. “I’m sleepy.”

 

“Do you still want a bath?” Neville murmured against her temple. 

 

Pansy snorted. “Are you trying to politely tell me that I smell?”

 

“Hmm...maybe-ahh!” Neville cried out as Pansy slapped him in the chest with her palm. “I mean, no, of  _ course _ not! I was just wondering if you wanted me to run it for you?”

 

“I still think you think I smell,” she replied. “But yes,” she placed a soft kiss on his shoulder, “that would be nice.”

 

“Alright, you’re going to have to get off me first, though.”

 

Pansy groaned, this time in frustration and not in pleasure. “Ugh,” she grumbled, beginning to untangle herself from him. “Fine.”

 

Standing shakily, partly due to the surge of adrenaline that had since dissipated, and partly due to her tiredness, Pansy found herself lightheaded, and, had Neville’s strong hands not gripped her in time, she’d have fallen sideways. 

 

“Sit down,” he whispered in her ear, and Pansy obeyed, moving over to the sofa with Neville’s help. They were both still naked, and Pansy watched with interest as Neville’s pleasing behind walked towards the door. Smirking at the sight, Pansy sat back, her eyes gazing over the room that in a few days she would no longer call home. 

 

Suddenly, her eyes widened. “NEVILLE!”

 

She could hear him busying himself with the running of the bath. “YEAH?”

 

“It’s a really good thing Draco won’t be coming back here!”

 

Neville’s head popped itself around the door. “Yeah? How so?” 

 

“We got spunk on his chair!”

 

* * *

 

Waking the next morning was unlike any Christmas Pansy had woke up to. Granted, in the more recent years, Freyja and Daphne, and even Draco had ensured that Pansy received presents she actually enjoyed, but her mother had usually, for some reason still unbeknown to Pansy, always insisted that Pansy return to her childhood home for Christmas. Enduring the same, strained family gathering which always involved the grand total of the three of them, was irritating at best, and downright painful at worst.  

 

Before she was eleven, Christmas was never something Pansy looked forward to, like other children, instead she more often than not found herself wishing the holiday disappear altogether. Lilith Parkinson may have instilled it into Pansy that the girl was  _ special,  _ but rarely did she go out of her way to ensure her daughter believed it so. 

 

This year, however, she awoke to a pair of strong arms surrounding her, in a bed that wasn’t in any way her own, but, with him sharing it with her, felt more like home than anywhere ever had. Turning, so as to face Neville, Pansy was pleased to see his eyes open, and his smile widen when she looked at him. 

 

“Morning,” she said, croakily. 

 

He kissed her forehead. “Merry Christmas.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Pansy’s nose wrinkled, “ _ that,  _ too.”

 

Chuckling slightly, Neville pulled Pansy closer into him. “I can’t wait to give you your presents.”

 

“Present _ s _ ?” Pansy queried, “as in, more than one?”

 

“As in three.”

 

“I only got you one!” Pansy cried, suddenly aghast.

 

“So?” 

 

“So,” Pansy whined, elongating the  _ o  _ sound, “you’ve made me look bad.”

 

“I’m dreadfully sorry,” Neville replied, kissing her forehead again. 

 

Pansy huffed. “Good, you should be.”

 

“Do you want your presents now?”

 

Pansy pulled away from him, and propped her pillows up, making herself a makeshift headboard. “Well, yes, I do.”

 

Neville grinned as he placed his lips on hers briefly. He summoned his bag, which he’d moved to Pansy’s room the day the holidays began, and pulled three beautifully wrapped parcels. Pansy felt a jolt rise in her chest at the sight.  _ His isn’t wrapped. Not that it really  _ could  _ be wrapped...could have bought a bow to stick on it, or something.  _ _   
_ __   
He handed the first to her, it was a funny sort of square oval shape, and Pansy couldn’t even offer a guess as to what it was. Carefully, she began to peel the wrapping paper aside, until she was able to peer somewhat inside. A familiar, yet entirely unexpected blue leaf grabbed her attention. Bringing the potted plant away from its wrappings, Pansy let in an intake of breath. “It’s our plant!”

 

“It is, I asked Professor Sprout if I could keep it, and she said yes. I know we’re leaving but it shouldn’t take up too much room in your bag, or mine, if you want.”

 

Pansy’s heart was thumping wildly. “Noone has ever given me anything...like this.”

 

“Do you like it?”

 

“I love it,” she breathed. 

 

“This one,” he picked up a second present, a small, rectangle box, and passed to her, “is related to the first one.”

 

Inside, was a wooden box, which housed five of small glass potion vials, a swirling mixture of both blue and green was inside each. Pansy opened her mouth in surprise. “Is this  _ made  _ from the plant?”

 

“Do you remember when we were writing about it? After we finally worked out what it was? And we discovered it had-”

 

“Healing properties,” Pansy interjected, nodding. 

 

“Right, and in order for them to work, parts of the leaves had to be-”

 

“Extracted and melted down.” 

 

Neville was grinning again. “You do remember.”

 

“What we  _ didn’t  _ realise, was that once you do that, the potion is scented.”

 

Gingerly, Pansy took a vial and uncorked it. “It is?” The scent that hit her was, surprisingly, refreshing and pleasant. “So, it’s like a perfume?”

 

“It can be,” Neville replied, “if you want it to be.  _ Or  _ you could keep the potions just for healing, they don’t work as well as dittany, or any healing spells, but a few drops will speed up blood clotting, and kill any potential infection.  It does something to your bacteria, basically jump starts most healing.”

 

Pansy’s eyebrows were raised at his words. “That’s amazing.” She took a small amount on the pad of her index finger and patted it around her neck, and wrists. “I think I’ll use one for perfume, and keep the rest incase we ever need it.”

 

“Good plan.”

 

Smiling, Pansy gave her wrist a quick sniff. “Can I give you yours now?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Reaching over to the far end of her bedside table, Pansy reached behind a lamp and pulled forth the small cardboard box, the top of which was littered with holes. “Sorry it isn’t wrapped, but...you’ll see why I didn’t.”

 

Neville took the box, his brows knitting together in confusion. 

 

“I, well I felt bad...after you told me about Trevor, and well…” she gestured vaguely.

 

His eyes widened in utter shock as he carefully opened the top flaps. “Oh my-”

 

From the top of the box, a small orange head bobbed its way upwards, a pair of unblinking beady black eyes fixed entirely on Neville. 

 

“Hello,” the wizard breathed, and Pansy was relieved to see there seemed to be excitement laced with his shock. “Who are you?”

 

The small corn snake slithered upwards, and maneuvered onto Neville’s hand, and then continued further up his arm, before reaching the top of his shoulder, which, apparently, was a good resting point. 

 

“She’s a girl,” Pansy explained, “but she doesn’t have a name yet.”

 

“Clementine,” Neville stated, and Pansy noticed his eyes narrow slightly, in a most un-Neville-like fashion, as though daring her to berate his name choice.  

 

“I like it,” Pansy smiled. “And I hope you like her.”

 

“She’s great,” Neville replied happily, reaching a hand upwards to pet Clementine’s scaly head. “Thank you,” he reached for Pansy’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You’re the best.”

 

“I try.”

 

“Want your last present?”

 

“Please!”

 

He handed her the last, another box, this one smaller. Beneath the wrapping paper black velvet met her fingertips. Upon opening it, Pansy gasped, her hand meeting her mouth as she heard nothing for a few seconds except her own heart beating. 

 

“Neville I can’t-”

 

“Yes, you can.”

 

“It’s too much, oh my Gods.”

 

Taking the delicate, silver chain from its box, Pansy felt the magic it contained weaving in and out of her fingers. “This is a shikkane.” 

 

“It is,” Neville replied, “it was my mother’s, my dad bought it once they passed their Auror exams.”

 

Pansy had learned about the charmed jewelry more than once. Laced with protective enchantments, which were enhanced when the wearer had been gifted the item by someone protective of them. Once they were worn, they needed to be charmed off, but the wearer was granted protection. 

 

“Are you sure? Your mum...” Pansy breathed. 

 

“Turn around and lift your hair up.”

 

She swallowed, and did as he instructed. 

 

She felt the chain rest against her throat, once more aware of the magic emanating from it. “My mum would be honoured, Pansy.”

 

Turning back to face him, a single  tracking its way down her cheek. She touched the shikkane, flush against the skin of her neck, it fit her like a choker. “This is...so incredible.”

 

“You’re incredible.”

 

“ _ You’re  _ incredible,” Pansy countered. 

 

A hard banging on Pansy’s door interrupted their conversation. Instinctively, both Pansy and Neville reached for their wands. However, their guards were let down when Winky’s unmistakable voice rang out through the wood. “If Miss Pansy wishes to eat breakfast, Winky  _ insists  _ both she and Mr Neville make their way downstairs.”

 

Fighting the desire to laugh, Pansy raised her voice to reply. “We’ll be right down, Winky.”

 

“Ah yes, that’s good, so it is. Winky doesn’t wish to be on her lonesome, no she doesn’t.”

 

“Aw Winky, we won’t leave you on your own at Christmas,” Neville replied, as he and Pansy exchanged a look of raised eyebrows. 

 

“Good good, Mr Neville. Oh, and an owl appeared, with a letter for you, Miss Pansy. The writing is in Mr Malfoy’s hand.”

 

“Oh, okay. Thanks!”

 

“Winky will see you in a minute, yes she will.”

 

At that, they heard the elf begin to descend the staircase. 

 

“I wonder what Draco is sending an owl about,” Pansy mused, her brow furrowed as a feeling of unease overtook her. 

 

Neville began to rise from the bed. “Only one way to find out.”

 

“Yeah,” Pansy followed suit, “let’s go.”


	35. Need You To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon timeline divergence

Neville’s eyes were narrowed, but his voice remained steady. “Who?” he asked, levelly.

“Dean Thomas,” Pansy replied, her hands shaking as she clutched the parchment from Draco as tightly as she was able, “and Luna Lovegood...and, weirdly, a goblin, for some reason.”

She watched as Neville’s nostrils flared, his own fists were clenched, around nothing, and she could hear every one of his long breaths. “Fuck!” he yelled as his fingertips moved upwards to massage his temples.

“They’re unharmed,” Pansy quickly added in a hushed tone. “I’m sorry.”

Nodding, Neville seemed to calm down slightly at the revelation that they were, at present, not hurt.

“That’s...not all.” Pansy let out a shaky breath as she quickly scanned Draco’s words. “Oh...no, they’ve escaped.”

“Dean and Luna?”

“And the goblin. Yeah, they...Merlin,” Pansy exclaimed, not knowing whether to believe the words, despite knowing without a doubt they were Draco’s, and Draco wouldn’t lie, not about this, at a time like now. “Potter…Potter was there!”

“Harry’s been there? At Draco’s?” Neville’s face was flushed, and his words were hurried, as though he couldn’t get them out fast enough.

Pansy nodded, her heartbeat seemed to be racing as it boomed in her ears. “Potter, Weasley and Granger were captured by Snatchers, whatever that means, and brought to the Manor. Bella-” Pansy halted herself mid-word, her eyes flickering between the parchment and Neville, unsure whether to continue. Something somewhere between instinct and fear brought her right hand to her neck, where the protective shikkane sat. It hadn’t protected Alice Longbottom from Bellatrix, Pansy knew.

“It’s okay,” Neville said, swallowing, and Pansy knew his words were entirely untrue. “You can say her name.”

Pansy took a breath. “Bellatrix Lestrange...tortured Granger, but she’s okay,” she added hastily seeing Neville’s eyes widen at her words. “Her and Weasley escaped with Potter, and somehow they took Dean and Luna with them. Dobby...Dobby? Does he mean the House Elf?”

Neville shrugged. “Must do.”

“Well, Dobby helped them-”

“Good.”

“But might have been stabbed as he apparated them away.”

“Oh. Not so good...”

The final part of the letter held one piece of information, and one direction. Pansy’s eyes closed as she sighed, in equal parts understanding and disappointment. “I _knew_ she’d do this.”

Neville was frowning. “Who?”

“I knew she wouldn’t go with them. I saw it...I saw it the night before the holidays, in her eyes.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“Millicent.”

“Ah.”  
  


“She got on the train,” Pansy relayed the information, “then wouldn’t speak to Draco on the journey.” She looked up at Neville. “She went home.”

“She always did seem the most...conflicted,” Neville stated, and Pansy nodded.

“I knew, she said...she told me how she didn’t want her parents to get hurt...or, killed, or...I should’ve talked to her more.”

She felt Neville’s hands grip the side of her forearms. “ _She_ made her decision,” he said, his voice gentle, but firm. “That was her choice to make, and she did. I doubt you could have changed it.”

Looking down to read the final part of the note, Pansy looked up, her eyes meeting Neville’s. “Draco’s told us to wait until he gets back. He, the Dark...uh, You-Know-Who, is really mad that Potter escaped, obviously. He’s sent people looking for Theo and Blaise. They’re-they’re being treated as traitors, to be killed on the spot. He wants us to wait til the heat goes off them for a while, and I need to make myself seen by the Carrows until the end of the holidays. He says that I-I can’t be seen as anything but loyal right now.”

“Okay.” Pany’s eyes snapped to Neville, his calm tone mimicked by his calm exterior. It unnerved her slightly, she certainly didn’t feel calm.

“Okay?”

“We wait-”

“But, Theo and-”

“Theo and Blaise, and Daphne, will be fine, they can defend themselves, and You-Know-Who won’t have a clue where to even start looking.”

“That’s...true,” Pansy replied, hesitantly. “We can’t even get a message to them, though. I really don’t like this.”

“No, I don’t either.”

“It’s really…” Pansy trailed off.

“Real?”

“Yeah,” she sniffed, and the relief she felt when his arms engulfed her was overwhelming. “It’s real.”

Neville kissed the side of her head. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Nope,” Pansy answered, her voice as wobbly as her scattered thoughts were.

He pulled her even closer, and she couldn’t have missed the way his voice hitched ever so slightly. “Me neither.”

“I told you.”

“Hmm?”

“Christmas is shit.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, if they did their utmost to forget the content of Draco’s letter, Christmas wasn’t, as much as Pansy tried to swear it was, wholly shit.

Winky had come into the room a few minutes after they had finished reading, and had bossily ushered them through to the kitchen, the sight of which made Pansy gasp and Neville let out a low whistle.

Where the once old and dingy cupboard and urine-yellow walls had been, now the room had been enlarged, magically, and filled with an abundance of Christmas decorations, a beautifully embellished table, set for three, Pansy noticed with a slight chuckle, stood in the centre, a number of empty plates, dishes and glasses sat, waiting to be filled with Christmas dinner.

“Winky would very much like to sit with Miss Pansy, and Mr Neville, if Miss would grant it so?” The elf took a deep bow, and Pansy in spite of herself let out a quick laugh as she exchanged a look of amusement with Neville.

“Why do I feel like you’d just do it anyway, even if I said no?”

“Because Miss is most intelligent,” Winky replied, brisky, and promptly rose back to standing, and moved to the nearest chair. Clapping her small hands together twice, Winky summoned an abundance of foods to appear, instantly, on the various plates and dishes.

“Wow, Winky,” Neville’s tone was one of admiration. “This looks great.”

“Oh, it does Mr Neville, doesn’t it?” Winky replied, not waiting for either Pansy or Neville to sit before beginning to tuck in.

“You know, Winky,” Pansy began as she and Neville took the two remaining seats, “you are unlike any elf I’ve ever met.”

“That’s because Winky is one of a kind elf, Miss Pansy, oh yes she is.”

 

* * *

 

The afternoon passed far faster than Pansy would have ever guessed it would, and before long, it was gone, replaced by a chilly but crisp evening, lit by starlight and looked over through the clearest of skies by a bright, crescent moon.

“It’s snowing again,” Neville observed. He was leaning partially against the edge of Pansy’s desk, looking out of the window and over the grounds. Pansy herself, was lounging back against her pillows, eating yet another helping of Winky’s trifle. The small elf, after one bowl of the pudding had promptly taken herself off for an early night.

“Ohh, I wanna see,” Pansy replied as she placed the now empty bowl on her bedside table, and attempted, and then promptly failed, to get up from the bed. “Oof,” she exclaimed, now face down on the top of the duvet.

From somewhere above her, Pansy heard a snort of laughter, and felt a pair of strong hands encase her arms, which let her torso upwards, until she was sitting upright once more.

“That’s enough trifle for you,” Neville said.

Pansy gasped at his words. “How dare you! I intend on having at least one bore mowlful.”

“You’re drunk.”

Neville appeared to be swaying slightly. That’s weird, Pansy thought to herself as her boyfriend moved from side to side. “I am _not_ ,” she countered. “How can you even get drunk from trifle, that’s just a twattish thing to suggest.” For some reason, Pansy’s words sounded funny as she spoke them.

“By it being made with, from the smell of it, a full bottle of sherry.”

“Oh- _hic_ , that’s funny,” Pansy replied with a laugh, as she, having quite forgotten about the snow, flopped herself back against the pillows once more. Opening and stretching out her arms, she smiled dopily up at Neville. “Hug me!”

And he did. Lowering himself onto the bed beside her, Pansy felt Neville’s arms engulf her. “I’ll _always_ hug you, Pansy Parkinson.”

“And I will sometimes let you,” she quipped, or attempted to, finding it more difficult than she would like to be sassy when your words all seemed to tumble out as one. “Occasionally,” although she wasn’t entirely certain she’d said the word correctly. _Not sure it’s real word. Might be wrong._

“There she is.”

_Probably was wrong._

“Who?! Better not be- _hic_ , another girl Neville Longbottom!”

“The Pansy I know, and fell in love with,” he chuckled. “Even in this hell we call a school year, you make me incredibly happy, Pansy Parkinson.”

“I do need you to do- _hic,_ need that, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Need...need that.”

His voice was a whisper close to her ear, and his words were separated by soft kisses along her temple. “What do you need?”

 

* * *

 

__

_His teeth nipped her neck harder than usual as he wasted no time, and granted her not enough preparation, before thrusting into her._

__

_“Agh! Draco!” her exclamation was drowned out by his groans, not that it mattered, for Pansy was entirely sure that Draco couldn’t - or wouldn’t, she wasn’t entirely sure, hear her. He hardly ever did, but especially not in moments like these, when he’d spent the better part of five hours in the strange room she couldn’t even fathom to understand, fixing the stupid vanishing cabinet she wished he would set fire to and never think of again._

__

_Not that that was in any way possible, but she could dream. And dream she did._

__

_“I want you,” that’s what he’d say when he came to her in the dead of night, climbing into her four poster not thinking enough to care about waking her, and kissing her whilst his sweat-drenched shirt was tugged from his too thin frame._

__

_“I need you,” was what she’d whisper whilst she held his shaking shoulders as she vanished each drop of vomit that spilled from his throat. “I need you back, I need my Draco.”_

__

_“Do we? Do we still? Did we ever?” It was what he’d query as they sat, hands not quite touching but too close to mean anything platonic._ Were they ever platonic? _Pansy mused to herself countless times that year._

__

_“Love?” she’d ask and he’d nod. “Right now, I want you, everyday,” she replied, honestly, “and I’ll never not need you.” Pausing, she watching the stormy fuelled seas that hid themselves within the iris’ of his eyes. “I do love you. But I don’t think I’m in love with you, and I don’t think you are with me, either.”_

__

_She felt his hand reach the few mere centimetres to reach hers. And for once, in the ashes of the hell that was his sixth year at Hogwarts, he smiled. “I love you too, Pans.”_

__

_“Maybe one day two idiots will fall in love with these,” he gestured his free hand between them, “two idiots.”_

__

_“Think I’m a lost cause, to be honest, but you,” she felt his index finger gently poke her chest, “you’re going to make some poor, undeserving twat really fucking happy, Pansy Parkinson.”_

__

_“If I tell you something, do you promise not to laugh at me?”_

__

_“No.”_

__

_“I sounds so anti-feminist and fucking ridiculous, but I think I need it.” Draco raised his eyebrows, but didn’t, to his credit, laugh. “Someone to fall in love with me.”_

__

 

* * *

 

 

“Fall in... Love...me, I need...I’ll always-” Whether he responded or not, Pansy never knew, as unconsciousness began to overtake her intoxicated mind and exhausted body. “Need you to...love…”


	36. Same Game, Just Different Levels

Neither wished to admit quite how much they clock-watched on the morning Draco - and Millicent, Pansy supposed, was due to return to Hogwarts. Nor were they willing to admit the collective sigh of relief that escaped both of their mouths when the Head dormitory door was flung open, to reveal the familiar, pale blond figure that was one Draco Malfoy. 

 

The remainder of the holidays had passed in waves; some incredible, full of love and laughter, others anxiety-fuelled resulting in Pansy and Neville clinging to each other, in every way they could, simply to have something,  _ anything,  _ wish dampened the want,  _ need,  _ to run out of the castle - despite knowing that was an entirely physical impossibility, for Neville at least, and attempt to find their friends. 

 

He’d arrived when she had expected him to, but what she  _ wasn’t  _ expecting, well, not  _ fully  _ expecting anyway, was the utterly haunted look that was projected upon his ashen face, the hasty advance he made into the living room, and the three words that he spoke in greeting, “Pack your things.”

 

Blinking, Pansy glanced briefly at the equally flabbergasted looking Neville, and rose slowly to her feet. “Well, hello to you, too.”

 

Draco’s left eyebrow rose to the middle of his forehead. “Hello,” he replied, blandly, before striding towards the door on the other end of the room. “Make sure you’re packed,” he repeated, turning briefly to face the couple. “We might not have much notice.”

 

“Wait a sec-,” Pansy began, but Draco chose to ignore her words entirely. Frowning, she watched the door slowly close behind him, “-ond.”

 

“That was...interesting,” Neville observed from behind her. 

 

Muttering darkly, Pansy glared at the now closed door. “Downright rude, is what it was.”

 

As it happened, both Neville and Pansy had ensured they were packed, having done so when they were still expecting to leave a few days after Blaise, Theo and Daphne, and therefore they had little choice, Pansy knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to enter Draco’s bedroom, to sit themselves back down and pretend they hadn’t just waited eagerly for her dormmate’s arrival. 

  
  


It took Draco two and a half hours to reappear, and neither Pansy nor Neville held any clue as to what had kept him for so long, however, neither pressed the matter, knowing full well that Draco had just spent the entire Christmas holidays in the company of less than pleasant individuals, Voldemort himself being the least pleasant of all. 

 

As he took his usual seat, Pansy noticed Draco’s brow winkle slightly as he shuffled his behind this way and that. Not thinking that it would be possible that he’d realise that Pansy and Neville had not only occupied his seat, but ensured themselves both a hexing were Draco to ever find out, Pansy decided to steer any conversation away from Draco’s frowning and buttock maneuvering. 

 

“How’s your mum doing?”

 

“Shit,” Draco replied, his tone dry. “Really shit.”

 

“And you?”

 

Shrugging, Draco - who seemed, at least, to be satisfied that his chair cushion was satisfactory, replied, “Also shit, I guess. But I’m alright. Managed to avoid  _ him  _ knowing that I know why Theo and Blaise were no-shows.”

 

“I really hope they’re alright.” Pansy realised her voice was closer to a whisper than anything else, and felt Neville’s hand rest gently on her knee as she spoke. 

 

“They’ve not been found,” Draco replied, “I’d have known.”

 

Pansy nodded, the familiar tightness in her chest that appeared whenever she thought of her friends waiting to meet her and Neville, and finding no one, threatened to make her heave, like it so often did. She knew they could say a thousand things in that moment, but none would offer any more comfort than what the three already knew. And so they didn’t. 

 

This time, it was Neville who addressed the other wizard. “Draco?” 

 

“Yeah, mate?”

 

“Dean, and Luna...they got away okay, they weren’t...” he trailed off.

 

Draco’s grey eyes scrutinised Neville for a long second, before he gave the Gryffindor one short, sharp nod. “They were alright, hungry, I’d venture, and probably pretty sore from sleeping on the floor of the cellar, but they were alright.”

 

Pansy’s peripheral vision informed her that Neville nodded in response. “And Harry? Ron and Hermione?”

 

Snorting a laugh, Draco let out a sigh. “Fuck me, you should have seen Potter. I’m assuming that Granger or Weasley hit him with some kind of strong stinging hex. His face was blown up like a bloody balloon, was almost unrecognisable, which was the point, I’d imagine. Funny though, or it would have been, given any other circumstance. I’d have paid a great deal of money to have caught Potter like that in class.”

 

Pansy heard Neville swallow beside her. “They were alright, though?”

 

Draco’s brief reprieve of humour seemed to disintegrate. “Granger wasn’t. Bellatrix got her pretty bad. Carved some shit into her arm with a knife. She was alright though, by the time they escaped she was up and walking, so I imagine she won’t have had any lasting effects, not physical ones, anyway.”

 

Neville didn’t reply, and neither did Pansy, the words of someone far too close to home rang through her brain. _My stance on the matter is irrelevant. This is the game we must play, Pansy._ Granger, lying tortured and mutilated. That was her father’s _game,_ in its rawest and truest form, Pansy knew. The thought wasn’t a pleasant one. 

  
Not able to bear the silence that had befallen the three, since which a good five minutes had passed, Pansy turned her head to face Draco, once more. “Why do we need to be prepared to leave at such short notice?”

 

It was the first time since arriving back at the castle that he lied to her, and for the first time in a long time, Draco’s eyes refused to meet Pansy’s. “Because we don’t know what’ll happen now, the Carrows will be tracking down Longbottom,” Draco nodded at Neville, “to fucking execute him, and we need to prepare for possibility we have to just go.” 

 

She didn’t press the matter further, as much as a large part of her wished to. “Alright,” she replied, her voice level. “And...Millicent? Did she just bottle it or…?”

 

“Fuck knows, she wouldn’t speak to me on the train,” Draco’s tone had rapidly changed to one of something just short of anger, “fucked off down the other end then wouldn’t open the carriage door, then once we arrived in London she was off. I didn’t see her until we boarded the train to come back,” this time, his eyes bored into hers in the way they always had. “I don’t know what happened to her over Christmas, Pans, but I don’t know if she’s still on our side or… ” he paused, “I don’t know.”

 

“She is,” Pansy said, more to herself than anyone else, and with more conviction than her gut told her to believe. “She was just scared, she told me she was.”

 

“She better be,” Draco snarled. “I’ve known that girl for most of my life, but if she turns on us now and anything happens to my mother, or you, she won’t have to worry about the Dark Lord. I’ll kill her myself.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

“I don’t like this,” Pansy said, swallowing. “I know why you want to, but...I don’t want you to, if the Carrows see you…”

 

Neville tightened the grip of the hand that held hers. “He’s one of my best friends, and he deserves to know.”

 

Draco had been watching the exchange with his signature trace of a frown present on his face. Suddenly, he rose from his chair. “How certain are you that he can be trusted?”

 

“Seamus?” Neville looked at Draco. “I’d bet my life on it.”

 

“Alright. What if I find him and bring him here?”

 

If Neville hadn’t been sitting down, Pansy was fairly certain he would have taken a step backwards. “Not to sound rude, or like I don’t appreciate it, but why would you do that?”

 

Draco considered Neville for a moment, before replying, “Because, for some fucking laughable twist of fate, right now you’re the closest thing I have here to a best mate, besides this one,” he nodded his head in Pansy’s direction, “and as much as you are  _ such _ a fucking Longbottom, I don’t actually want you to thrown down with an Avada between your shoulder blades. Especially if they’re being led to believe you’ve gone AWOL.”

 

_ Charming as always, Draco _

 

“Such...a Longbottom...”

 

“Merlin, I know,” Draco sighed, “and you aren’t just  _ a  _ Longbottom, you’re  _ the  _ Longbottom.”   
  
Neville’s tone was dry, but laced with amusement. “I can see how being around such a, oh - my apologies,  _ the  _ Longbottom would be awful for you.”

 

“I’m glad you see where I’m coming from, Longbottom.”

 

“You’d really get Seamus?”

 

This time, Draco’s sigh was dramaticised further. “If I must.”

 

“Well, he’ll be on the Seventh Floor, I don’t know how to explain without-”

 

“Hang around the Room of Requirement, got it,” Draco replied, and sauntered off, exiting the living room without so much as a backwards glance. 

 

Neville’s face held an expression of absolute dumbfoundedness. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Draco hadn’t been gone longer than twenty minutes before a sharp knock at the door demanded both Pansy and Neville’s attention. Frowning, Pansy tentatively made her way towards the entrance, making sure Neville had quietly taken himself through to the kitchen. 

 

What she expected, or rather, the only circumstance she could imagine, was to come face to face with a suspicious Seamus Finnegan mumbling something about Malfoy instructing him to come here. Why Draco wouldn’t have accompanied Finnegan, Pansy didn’t know, but yet this still seemed the most plausible occurrence. 

 

What, or  _ who,  _ awaited her, however, was not Seamus Finnegan. 

 

Her voice, when she spoke, had an unusual squeak to it. “Hi.”

 

“Millicent.”

 

“I don’t remember you ever calling me that.”

 

“I don’t remember you ever abandoning us,” Pansy replied, keeping her voice as steady as she could. 

 

“Please let me explain.”

 

“Why should-”

 

“ _ Please!” _

 

“Are you on  _ his  _ side now?” 

 

Pansy could see tears begin to form in her friend’s eyes. “No. No, I-I’m not, but I need to explain...I need to talk to you alone, please,” she repeated the final word in a whisper that Pansy could hear was laced with desperation.

 

Knowing that Draco would throw a fit if he saw Millicent right now, the blond didn’t trust her, and Pansy knew that Draco’s trust was a fickle thing that, when tested, was stubborn at best and downright resentful and enraged at worst. Throw in what she would bet a lot of gold was the worst Christmas of his life, and the heightened restlessness that came with their escape being imminent, Pansy didn’t think that Draco would be willing to listen to one word that passed Millicent’s lips. 

 

“Fine,” Pansy hissed, as years of friendship bombarded the confides of the boundaries she wished she could throw up against the witch. “Meet me in an hour and a half, in the dungeons.  _ The  _ alcove.”

 

“Okay,” Millicent tearfully replied. “Thanks...Pans.”

 

Nodding briefly, Pansy didn’t wait for Millicent to disappear before closing the door. 

 

“Is that wise?” Neville’s voice rang out from behind her. 

 

“I...don’t know.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

Draco, with a very agitated Seamus Finnegan in tow, arrived shortly after Millicent’s visit. 

 

The Irishman’s eyes widened at the sight of Neville. “You’re going to have to give me really good reason to trust anything  _ he,”  _ Seamus spat, “or  _ she,”  _ says.

 

“Good afternoon, Finnegan,” Pansy replied, her tone bitter. Making niceties with Seamus, of all people, not being entirely high up on her already dwindling list of social activities. 

 

It took far longer than it had Luna, or even Ginny, to get Seamus on side, but eventually, the wizard, much to Pansy’s relief, nodded. “Alright, say I believe you, what’s so important that I needed to come all the way here, to hear?”

 

“Mate,” Neville patted the other Gryffindor’s shoulder. “Sit down.”

 

As Draco relayed the story of Dean and Luna’s capture, Pansy noticed Seamus become paler and paler as his breathing hitched and his eyes reddened. 

 

“He’s alright?” he directed the whispered question towards Draco, all traces of animosity gone, in its place...was something else. Something more, Pansy strongly began to suspect, than friendship.

 

“I believe he is perfectly fine.”

 

Seamus’s face fell into his palms, shoulders shaking as Neville clapped him on the back, and Pansy felt her mouth dry up. Intrusive, that was how she felt, and that was what drove her through the door at the back of the room, and into the kitchen.

 

She felt Draco’s hand on her arm. “You alright?” 

 

Pansy, not knowing entirely how to answer, her thoughts diverting between Seamus, to Millicent, to herself and Neville, and Draco. “It’s no different,” she whispered. “No different for us, than Finnegan, it’s all…”   
  


“We’re all facing the same game, just different levels,” Draco stated with a nod. “Dealing with the same hell, just different devils. Although, I’m not sure that entirely works when the devils are the same, but you get the jist.”

 

“I do.” Checking the timepiece situated on the wall above Draco’s head, Pansy swallowed. “Draco, do you trust me?”

 

“You know I do.”

 

“There’s something I need to go and do, by myself.”

 

He didn’t press her, or even frown. Instead, he simply said, “Okay,” and accepted her quick hug, before she hurried out of the kitchen, and back to the living room. Sharing a quick look that encompassed many things, primarily, _Love you,_ and _be careful,_ with Neville, still offering comfort to Seamus, Pansy left the Head dorm, and went to meet Millicent.

 

She wasn’t at all certain which of her battling gut feelings she ought to follow; the one telling her that this may very well be a trap, or the one that scorned her for being so untrusting of someone that, until a week or so again, Pansy had considered one of her best friends.  _ War will do that: make you untrusting,  _ Pansy supposed. 

 

Keeping her wand grasped tightly within her fist, Pansy made her way through the cool stone corridors that made up the dungeons. Half expecting an ambush, Pansy gasped far louder than she would have liked, at the sight of Millicent standing there, alone, as stated. 

 

“You came.”

 

“I did,” Pansy replied bluntly, and, at the sight of her friend obviously on the cusp of breaking down, purposefully softened her tone. “Okay, what’s going on?”

 

“I-I couldn’t do it, I wanted to, I swear I did, but my parents, Pansy,” Millicent’s voice was cracking as she spoke. “I couldn’t leave them like that, the parents of a traitor, to be tortured or murdered or…”

 

“You could have told Draco that, you didn’t have to ignore him-”

 

“Yes! I did, and no, I couldn’t have told him! I’m not brave like you and Draco, and I’m not good, like...like Longbottom, he’d just think I was a coward, and maybe I am, but...it wasn’t ever meant against you guys. I love you all, I love Theo, and I didn’t mean to-”

 

“Look, Mills,” Pansy purposefully used Millicent’s nickname. “It’s okay, you bottled it, and yeah, okay, Draco wasn’t happy about it, and I wished you’d just gone with them, but it was hardly for a bad reason, and as long as you’d never turn on  _ us,-” _

 

“No, I’d never!”

 

“Well then, you could just leave with Draco, Neville and I in a few days, I’ll speak to Draco and-”

 

“I  _ would,”  _ Millicent’s tears were falling freely now. “I really, really want to-”

 

“Right, that’s settled then, now stop that crying,” Pansy leaned towards Millicent, her arms outstretched. 

 

“No! You don’t understand... over the holidays, they...we, had...visits...I didn’t want to. I-I didn’t know what to say...I-”

 

_ This is it,  _ Pansy knew.  _ This is the reason she needed to meet me without Draco.  _ Pansy was suddenly entirely aware of the sound of her own heartbeat. 

 

“Mills, what are you talking about? Visits from  _ who? _ ”

 

“I told them, and I’m so…I’m  _ so  _ so sorry. They threat-threatened me if I didn’t...and so I did. I-I told you...I’m a coward, and I know I’ve lost you, and Daphne...and Theo, and I’m so sorry...I’m so-”

 

The temperature of the very air that surrounded them had seemed to dip to well below freezing. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

 

Millicent’s tear-stained face rose upwards as another sound that wasn’t Millicent’s sobs or Pansy’s ragged breaths interrupted them. 

 

“Miss Pansy!” Whirling around, Pansy was met by the small form of a very scared looking, and very out of breath house-elf. 

 

“Winky what-”   
  


“No time, Miss Pansy, they have Mr Neville, and the other boy. Master Draco is there now.It’s bad, Miss Pansy.”

 

Had she not somehow remained standing, Pansy was ready to scream that there was no way there was any breath left in her lungs, or blood in her veins. “Who,” she asked needlessly, for she already knew the answer. “Winky... _ who  _ has Neville?”

 

“The Carrows, Miss Pansy. You must hurry, now!”

 

Somehow, despite having lost all feeling in her entire body, Pansy’s legs began to move at the vague directions she gave her brain:  _ move...Neville...move. _

 

“Pansy-”

 

Turning for the split second it took to seek out Millicent’s face, Pansy let out a staggered breath. 

 

Millicent’s words were strained, as her sobs crescendoed in volume. “Please forgive me, please…you don’t know what it was like...they made me tell them, I-I had no choice. I...”

 

As the unwanted reality of what she may be heading to face hit her, Pansy’s breathing was strangled as she shook her head, wanting nothing more than to hear a truth that Millicent wouldn’t speak, for she knew, in that moment, Millicent’s truth was the opposite. It wasn’t leaving Theo and the others, or ignoring Draco, that she was so desperate to apologise for. It was the fact that Winky’s words weren’t shocking, or unexpected, to Millicent in the slightest.  _ This,  _ what Pansy now had to face, was Millicent’s real indiscretion. 

 

Pansy’s voice reverberated off the walls and ceiling that surrounded her, and coursed through every fiber of her being as she stared, for the long second it took for her to scream the question she wouldn’t wait to hear the answer to, at a girl that, at one point, she’d have done anything for. 

 

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

 


	37. Entirely Responsible for her Heart

Pansy crashed through the dark, stony corridors of the dungeons, as fast as her body was able, yet it was entirely not fast enough.

 

The smile that was stretching Alecto’s mouth was wide and haunting. Pansy struggled to remember a time where the Death Eater had looked so gleeful, even the many, many times she had witnessed the torture curse radiate from Alecto’s wand onto the writhing body of a student - usually Neville, did not compare to the sheer, wild, joy that was plastered onto her pale face.

 

The grip Pansy held her wand with tightened as her eyes passed from one Carrow to the next; Amycus was standing beside his sister, an entirely different expression poised on his face - one not dissimilar to Pansy’s own perfected mask of indifference. Amycus looked, as always, more dangerous than his crazed sister. Cold emanated from the man; it seeped from every orifice his stature had, and held his face terrifyingly still, unreadable and colourless, save his piercing blue eyes, which sliced through Pansy like ice.

 

Amycus still, if she were honest, set every part of Pansy on edge. Made every hair on her body stand to attention as though manipulated by a magnetic field. Alecto was an open book, she relished in inflicting pain and did so with such a good humour, with such ferocity, in any other scenario involving any other act, would be comical. Her brother, however, was altogether different; where his sister acted without much thought, curses tumbling from her tongue with reckless abandon, Amycus rarely displayed emotion. Clearly, Pansy had often assessed, he favoured quality over quantity. It was not to say he hadn’t targeted any students, he most certainly had, but whereas a large number of pupils could recount a tale of meeting the other end of one of Alecto’s many curses; those who were unfortunate enough to have experienced the torture at the hand of the male deputy did not speak of the experience so freely. Pansy could recount a small number of occasions where she had seen such a student, and the wide-eyed, utterly terrified expression they wore, alongside the hushed, quickened tone they spoke in as their eyes darted sporadically around their vicinity, as though afraid of the very walls surrounding them. It was not something she would forget in a hurry.

 

Pansy held very little fear of Alecto, _that bitch is nothing more than fucking crazy,_ she so often thought, but Amycus; Amycus was pure evil. And given the choice, she’d take crazy any day over pure evil.

 

She had slowed to a halt and did her utmost to steady her breathlessness. Moments before she had sent Winky back to the Head dorm, instructing the elf to wait there and to shield herself from anyone bar she or Draco. Swallowing, Pansy rounded the last bend and approached both Carrows, and Draco, who’s briefest of brief glances informed her that the usual storm in his grey iris’ were thundery, and lethal.

 

“Why are we here?” Draco ventured, throwing Pansy a sideways glance. She could tell he was as surprised as she was to be standing in the random dungeon corridor.

 

“Call it a test, the Dark Lord is speaking more and more of new blood and we’d just _love_ for the chance to tell him how well you both do tonight.” Alecto said, and Pansy saw she was actually bouncing on the balls of her feet as she spoke.

 

“Err, I’ve _already_  proved myself,” Draco snapped, hastily thrusting the sleeve of his jumper upwards, revealing his Dark Mark, “and Pansy is _quite obviously_ just as loyal to the Dark Lord as I am. Ask anyone in this fucking dump.”

 

“Of course,” Alecto said, one side of her mouth upturning as she openly looked up and down Draco’s torso, her eyes slowly dragging themselves upwards, back to his face.

 

“It’ll just be for fun then, won’t it… for a pair of _obviously loyal_ supporters of the Dark Lord.”

 

“Whatever, just get on with it,” Draco drawled, sounding bored.

 

“You’ll see, when you go through here,” Alecto continued, gesturing to a flat expanse of wall behind her and Amycus who, at her words, tapped the wall once with his wand, revealing a single, metal door, very unlike the rest of the castle’s entrances.

Alecto grinned, shooting Draco a wink as she gestured towards the door, which had began to swing open slowly.

 

“Give them _hell,”_ She hissed, emphasising the last word.

 

Draco stepped through first, Pansy on his heels, not wishing to be left alone in the corridor with the deranged twins. Entering the unfamiliar room, Pansy was unsurprised to find it mostly bare.   
The focal point, and clearly the object of their sadistic challenge, was situated in the very centre of the room. Pansy only just managed to stifle a horrified gasp, as tied to two enormous, vertical ropes, were two bloody, and clearly thoroughly battered figures.

 

She heard Seamus mutter something incomprehensible, though she barely saw him, her eyes unwilling to leave Seamus’ companion. His face was almost entirely swollen, his nose looked broken; a trail of blood ran from his nostrils over his mouth; down his chin, where she realised, trying not to retch as she did, that it had pooled at his feet. A dark red puddle was clearly visible, its very size was enough to terrify Pansy all over again. It wasn’t just the blood from his nose adding to the pool; she realised with a jolt, a deep gash on the side of his head was openly dripping, adding to the blood already collecting on the stone ground.

 

_Oh fuck. Oh no, no, no, no..._

 

Pansy started to run to him; needing to comfort him, to make sure he was okay, which, at present, she didn’t know for sure and that unsurity gripped her very soul. She had a great, increasing desire to curse the living shit out of the Carrows for it. There was no doubt in her mind that she could Avada them both into dust, and then she’d leave, she and Neville and Draco would leave, they had left it too long, and this proved just that. They would find the others and they’d never look back. The world was simply too broken to fix andyet too terrible to keep themselves in.

 

And so she went to run, only to find she couldn’t. As though glued, Pansy had no choice but to halt and one short glance at Draco told her that he was the culprit. As she opened her mouth to scream at him to release the sticking charm, which was stronger than her efforts to counter were allowing, she realised with a lurch of something deep inside he had also silenced her. She glared at him, and gasped, this time not managing to conceal it, at the sight of Neville, who seemed to be drifting somewhere between conscious and not, the cut on his head looking nastier by the second.

 

Draco shot her a look which very clearly said to trust him. Which she did, if only because she had no alternative. She watched as he crossed the few short steps towards her, whispering to her in a brief, rushed tone; “Do our spell on Finnegan, _now.”_

 

Pansy obliged, her eyes not leaving Neville but knowing she’d met her target as Seamus began to scream, uncontrollably and horribly. The sound was loud and sinister and all around disturbing as it echoed around the room and Pansy watched in near panic as Draco wandered over behind Seamus, holding his wand to the Gryffindor’s temple and whispered in his ear, a grim, set look in his eyes as he did. His expression met Pansy, and somehow she knew, even without words that her role was to keep the spell going with Finnegan, and so she put everything she had, every ounce of strength into the knowledge that Draco seemed to have a plan, as she was left with no alternative but to entrust him with her Neville, and for the second time in his life, Draco Malfoy was entirely responsible for her heart.

 

She saw, rather than heard, due to Seamus’ continued screaming, Draco mutter _“Enervate”_ at Neville, she saw his eyes, her _favourite_ eyes in the whole world, open momentarily, entirely glazed. Pansy knew he knew not what was going on, and did all she could to keep the threatening tears from falling, as she watched as Draco raised his wand and cast their spell at him. If Seamus’ screams had affected Pansy, it was nothing to how she felt seeing Neville’s face forced to twist as though in agony, which, even though Draco’s spell was entirely harmless, looking at the state of him, Pansy guessed, her heart breaking, that he was probably in agony anyway.

 

Draco’s wand was poised at Neville’s throat, just touching the skin and she saw the concentration upon Draco’s face had intensified, and realised, with a rush of love and gratitude to her friend, that the deep laceration on Neville’s head was closing, melding itself together, albeit roughly, but enough to stall some of the bleeding.

 

She watched Draco’s face as the cold, clammy grip of sheer terror loosened the smallest fraction, as the toll of casting two nonverbal spells at once, both of which requiring a great deal of concentration - not to mention the magic required to keep Pansy stuck in place and silenced, were clearly taking their toll on him. Until he fell, panting, to his knees, and Pansy realised she could move at will, and speak, her gasp was very audible.

 

The door opened at that moment, just as Pansy was about to run towards Neville for a second time, and Alecto appeared, this time sans Amycus.

 

“That...sounded beautiful,” the Death Eater sighed, her eyes not leaving Draco, who was getting shakily to his feet. Pansy saw his wand twitch every so slightly towards her and she felt a familiar cooling covering her face, knowing that Draco was trying to make her hurt and shock less obvious with a cooling charm. Pansy inclined her head just enough that she knew he would see, and understand.

 

_I won’t blow our cover now. I promise._

 

“I will be sure to inform the Dark Lord _myself,_ she puffed her chest out like a mad hen at the last word, before continuing, “You can both let these two down, or leave them, I couldn’t really care less! I’ve already told that idiotic excuse for a medi-witch she cannot treat them,” she finished with a laugh, turning on her heel and leaving the room, turning at the last moment to look back at Draco and adding, “You know, Draco, I’d be more than happy for us to have some... _private_ study time together, if you were interested.”

 

_Merlin..._

 

Draco’s voice was calm, though Pansy knew she alone could hear the slight wobble, “I’ll bear that in mind.”

 

Alecto nodded, and left the room, leaving the four seventh years alone and Pansy had reached Neville in a few short steps no more than a few seconds after Alecto had disappeared.

 

“Draco, fuck. Look at him!”

 

“I know, Pans, I’ll sort it. Go to our rooms-”

 

“-if you really think I’m leaving-”

 

“Go to our rooms, get Winky to get all the healing stuff she can, get her to make up the couch with blankets for Finnegan, Longbottom can be levitated to your room. Now, Pans!” Draco interjected loudly, “Listen to me,” before he his grey eyes locked into her green, “I’ll get him there.”

 

Pansy’s hand grasped Neville’s, who, as he was speaking, Draco had cut free and lowered slowly to the ground. She nodded, one last look in his steely eyes told her that he would never let her down over this, and with one last glance at an unconscious Neville, she rose, and with the sound of Seamus’ questioning voice, “And now I actually owe Draco Malfoy...fu-”

 

“Shut up Finnegan, can you walk?” she heard Draco interrupt before she left them in the room, speeding down corridors, not knowing if she passed anyone, there was no room for anything other than getting back and calling Winky. Pansy did not stop until she was at the cow picture, panting and crying. She entered her familiar room and screamed, through her sobs.

 

“WINKY! HELP!”  


* * *

 

 

Winky, as Pansy would realise fully at a later point that wasn’t then, acted as an absolute credit to herself. Firstly busying herself obtaining a large vial of calming draft, which the small elf all but forced down Pansy’s throat. Next, she somehow made sense of Pansy’s broken instructions and arranged blankets and a myriad of healing items ready for the arrival of Neville and Seamus, all the while muttering darkly under her breath about _bad, bad business._

 

It probably hadn’t taken Draco long to get the two Gryffindors to their living quarters, but to Pansy it felt like a lifetime.

 

Seamus was walking, albeit shakily, whilst Neville was levitated, disillusioned by Draco, now entirely unconscious.

 

“I’m going to put him on Pans’ bed,” Draco informed Winky, who promptly nodded. “Sort that one,” Draco jerked his head backwards at Seamus, “out, then come up, he’s in bad shape.”

 

Winky did so straight away, ushering a bemused yet concerned looking Seamus on the couch, and insisting, with not one spoken word, that he lie down and allow the elf to attend to him. “Need to see Neville, make sure-”

 

“No, no, no,” Winky interjected Seamus’ words, “you need to do no such thing, no you don’t. You need to rest.”

 

“But-”

 

Winky didn’t need words to silence him further, instead she simply bestowed him a purposeful gaze of her trademark stubbornness that Seamus shut up at the sight of.  

 

Pansy didn’t hear the rest of the exchange, now through the opposite door and heading upstairs to her bedroom, her eyes never leaving Neville’s floating form, trying to avoid the terrifying truth that he looked more lifeless than merely unconscious. She’d never truly believed there would come a time where she would be forced to remind herself that Neville wasn’t, as he looked, dead.

 

Draco placed Neville as gently as possible upon Pansy’s bedclothes and for the first time, Pansy was able to look at him, truly look, uninterrupted and as close as she wished. “Oh, baby…” she breathed. _What the hell were you doing out of the living room?_

 

“What happened?” Pansy asked, her eyes didn’t leave Neville despite her question being directed at Draco. Winky had since entered the bedroom and was searching her way through various potions and salves from the kit she’d brought.

 

“A trap,” Draco replied simply. “There was a series of explosions right outside our door. I opened it just enough to listen and heard Alecto screeching that she’d found the Gryffindors, and that Weasley was first. Well, you can imagine, Hero Complex here, along with Finnegan, rushed into the corridor. I tried to stop them but Finnegan disarmed me,” Draco said the last part with such a bitterness that in any other circumstance it would have been laughable. “They hadn’t got Weasley at all, of course, instead they stunned these two on the spot only round the corner from our rooms. I waited thirty seconds before approaching, followed them to the dungeons where they took them into that room.” Pausing, Draco took in a breath through his nose. “I couldn’t get in, they’d made it so no one could get in but anyone could _hear_ what was happening. And because I couldn’t _see_ them, I couldn’t make them stop. I knew they fucked Longbottom up more. So I waited until they did, made up some bullshit story about hearing the screaming. They told me to send Winky to fetch you.”

 

“You could have stopped it,” Pansy retorted, a sudden flash of resentment roaring within her. “Once they came out, you could have instructed them to let them down and forget it.”

 

“I could have, yes, but this way the Dark Lord is informed of our show of loyalty.”  


“DO YOU THINK I CARE ABOUT LOYALTY, DRACO?! HE’S ALMOST DEAD!”

 

Draco’s voice, when he spoke, was steady. “He’s not dead, and he’s not going to die.”

 

Winky had seemingly done all she could do, and she insisted on fetching Draco a _pick-me-up_. As she left the bedroom, Pansy turned, wrenching her eyes from the unbelievable calmness that emanated from Neville, to face Draco for the first time.

 

“I know you don’t understand, but-”

 

“Can you just,” Pansy desperately tried to keep her voice stable, “go. Go with Winky. Make sure Finnegan is okay.”

 

“Pans-”

 

“I don’t hate you,” she said truthfully. “I’m not angry, I just…” Pansy often struggled with the same approach as her ex-boyfriend tended to have in most aspects of her life, not often sharing his calculated and meticulous mind. Where Pansy was ruled by the roar of emotions, Draco was governed by strategic and well thought out logic. It was what separated them the most, and it was at its most clear, then of all times. “Please,” she whispered. “I need to be alone with him.”

 

“Alright, I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

 

She barely heard him leave, hearing the _click_ of the door shutting vaguely, as though it had happened underwater, or somewhere far away. Sitting down, both scared and terrified of not waking Neville in equal measure. Slowly, so as to cause as little upset as she could, she lay herself downwards, tears openly flowing once more, and laid her head as carefully as she was able, on his chest.

 

_I love you._

 

_I love you so much._

 

How long she stayed, she did not know. She was somehow empty and full of pain all at once, and at first she barely heard it: the tapping.

 

Glancing upwards out of something that barely resembled curiosity, Pansy noticed, of all things, an owl, waiting, and by the looks of it, impatiently, at her bedroom window.

 

She didn’t have it within herself to declare the occurrence strange. Instead, she reached back for her wand, and drew the window upwards, allowing the owl to fly in and flutter to her, its leg outstretched.

 

Caring very little, only the tiny chance that whatever the parchment contained was some information from Daphne, made her rise from Neville, and peel the page from the owl, who gave her a look that Pansy didn’t wish to interoperate.

 

 _Please be okay,_ her thoughts drifted momentarily from Neville, to Daphne. _Please be okay._

 

Unfurling the parchment, Pansy began to read.

 

Pansy felt the very space that held her heart suddenly grow cold as she read the words presented to her. If she had thought that she’d felt the most terror she could feel at the sight of Neville tied up and bloody, she had been wrong.

 

She had been very, very wrong.


	38. It's Only Me

There was very little in her world that would have made Pansy leave Neville in that moment. However, finding and possibly committing first-degree murder after learning the contents of the note, was one of them.

 

Thundering through the halls of Hogwarts, Pansy didn’t know if she were knocking students aside, or teachers. She held little notice, or care, to find out which as she rushed towards the dungeons. 

 

The part of stone wall that seperated the Slytherin common room from the rest of the school didn’t even wait for her to speak the password, instead the large blocks of stone simply slid apart, granting her entry. Perhaps the jolt in adrenaline that was coursing through her, and by extension, her magic, was all that had been needed. Pansy didn’t know.

 

Pansy didn’t care. 

 

She reached the other side of the common room in record time, ignoring the scattering of Slytherin students that eyed her approach nervously, and followed the path that led to the dormitories, and in particular, the one she’d slept in for six years of her life. The one she’d slept in alongside Daphne, and…

 

“MILLICENT!” Pansy’s cry was deafening even to herself as she slammed her palm against the locked dormitory door. 

 

“GO AWAY, PANSY!” a voice answered her, though not the one she was expecting. “YOU’RE NOT COMING IN!”

 

Pansy ignored him, still opting to shout directly at Millicent. “REALLY, MILLS? BEST PALS WITH FUCKING CRABBE NOW, ARE YOU?!”

 

This time, it was Goyle that shouted back through the door. “WE DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS, PANSY, BUT IF YOU CONTINUE THIS, WE’LL HAVE TO DISARM YOU!”

 

_ Oh, for fuck’s sake.  _

 

Pansy didn’t care to tell either of Draco’s old aspiring bodyguards to move out of the way of the door, and subsequent explosion. “BOMBARDA!”

 

The door itself shattered entirely, but the structural damage seemed a lot more limited than she would have expected, the stones that held the door in place directly had fallen from the doorway, but all in all, the destruction was minimal. Both Crabbe and Goyle had been hit in some form by exploding debris, and were lying on the floor, unconscious.  _ Good.  _

 

Millicent, however, did not see it as minimal, it transpired. “PANSY, WHAT THE HELL? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!”

 

Pansy raised her wand higher, holding the thin magical instrument at chest height. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t?”

 

“Y-you’re scared-”

 

“You’re damn right I’m scared.” 

 

“I get it...I was too!” Millicent’s tone was pleading. “You don’t know what it was like, th-they hauled me in and questioned me...about Theo and Blaise, and Daphne...and you!”

 

Pansy felt something akin to lava rise up her esophagus. It halted in the back of her throat, threatening to force her onto all fours, retching. 

 

Millicent’s tone was now hysterical. “I had to tell them  _ something _ !” 

 

“And Neville was the easiest one to throw under the bus?!”

 

“I’m not proud of it,” at the look of derision Pansy threw at the Slytherin, Millicent hastily continued. “I’m  _ not,  _ you can believe what you want, but i’m not. But, if it comes to giving anything away about you, or Theo, or Daphne….then yes, I’m going to ch-choose...Neville.”  

 

“How very... _ loyal.” _

 

“It  _ is! _ I  _ know  _ you can’t see that, and I get why, but yes, my loyalty is to  _ you,  _ and our friends that we’ve spent  _ years  _ with...not to your boyfriend of a few months. I’m sorry, Pans, but can you honestly say you wouldn’t have done the same?”   
  


She couldn’t, and she didn’t as she glared at Millicent, knowing that she was not in any way prepared to admit that much.

 

“I  _ know  _ why you hate me,” the other witch continued. “I’d hate me too, but they would have  _ killed  _ my parents! They still might...if I do  _ anything,  _ they still...might. I’m not proud of it Pansy, I swear I’m not, but it was between him or one of us. And I wanted you to be okay.”

 

“You thought you were saving... _ me _ ?”

 

“Yes,” Millicent’s voice was a desperate whisper. “Yes, I-I wanted-”

 

“Well you were  _ wrong!”  _ Pansy willed herself to not cry with her  _ friend? Ex-friend? Enemy? No...no, even now, she wouldn’t use that term...that term was reserved for others. Ones far worse than Millicent.  _

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The letter was still balled in Pansy’s left fist, she hadn’t shown another soul, not even Draco, before she had made the split-second decision to track Millicent down. Thrusting the parchment towards, Millicent, Pansy, not content with standing still as the other witch read, began to pace back and forth, striking Crabbe and Goyle with a number of stinging hexes as she did, hoping that when they awoke, they did so in pain. 

 

“I don’t understand,” Pansy heard Millicent’s voice, as low as it was, clear as day. 

 

“No?” she whirled around. “Because it looks pretty clear from where I’m standing. Should’ve practiced closing your mind with me and Draco, Mills. 

 

“No, they didn’t...I’d have felt-”

 

“Not by someone experienced enough in occlumency, you wouldn’t have felt shit.”

 

“But this doesn’t make any sense, I-I didn’t even mention you _.” _

 

“Save it,” Pansy turned to leave, not entirely sure what her visit had achieved, if anything. “You didn’t just give him reason to look for Neville, you gave him enough to connect him to me from your thoughts, and now I need to work out what the fuck I’m going to do.”

 

“Y-you can still go, though, you and Neville, and Draco...you could still-”

 

The truth flew from her mouth quicker than she were able to stop them. “There’s no way Neville is strong enough to travel.”

 

“But, but you can’t...Pansy you-”

 

“Thanks to you,” Pansy hissed, “I don’t know if I have a choice.” Pausing, Pansy turned her face to once more face Millicent. It was a low blow, Pansy knew that before the words left her lips, and perhaps she really ought to not have uttered them. “But hey, at least your parents are fine, right?”

  
  


* * *

 

 

Neville’s condition hadn’t improved when Pansy returned, not that she had expected it to, though she couldn’t help but hope, and prey to every deity she’d ever heard of that he’d be awake, smiling at her as her name passed from his lips. Her only saving grace when her prayers hadn’t granted her the outcome she’d desired was that whilst he hadn’t improved, he hadn’t worsened either.  _ He’s not worse.  _ It was all she had to cling to as she wearily looked down on the one she loved with her everything. 

 

A knock on her bedroom door drew her attention, expecting Draco, Pansy replied, somewhat begrudgingly, “Yeah?”

 

The door opened, and in stepped a very battered, but mostly bemused looking Seamus Finnegan. “I’m, err, sorry if this is a bad time,” he began, purposefully looking anywhere but Pansy. “I was hoping I could see him,” Finnegan’s head bowed towards the bed, and Neville, “and your House Elf said to put these by the bed,” he raised one hand, and Pansy noticed the small crate-like box he was holding. 

 

“Right,” Pansy replied, not entirely sure how on Earth she was supposed to address the Gryffindor. “Yeah, of course.”

 

In any other circumstance, the look of absolute confusion present on Seamus’s face at Pansy’s words would have been laughable. “I’m not as evil as you think,” Pansy said sadly. 

 

“I hope you’ll pardon me for the judgement, but i’d never have believed it before today.”

 

Pansy snorted a breath through her nose. “You’re pardoned.”

 

“Do you mind if I,” Seamus nodded towards Pansy’s dressing table chair, “my ribs, you know, hurts to stand.”

 

“No, I don’t mind.”

 

“Appreciate it.”

 

She nodded in reply, once again not knowing what to say to him. 

 

Ultimately, it was Seamus who spoke again. “I knew it was a girl.”

 

Pansy blinked. “Sorry?”

 

Inclining his head in the direction of Neville’s unconscious form, Seamus elaborated. “Had to be. He’s been acting funny for weeks,  _ months,  _ really. It was obvious it was someone, but no one could work out who.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Didn’t quite have it penned as you, though.”

 

“No, I can’t imagine you did.”

 

“I trust him, though,” Seamus said, “Neville, I mean. I trust his judgement, he’s not led us wrong so far, and as much as it goes against all of my first instincts, I believe you, and Malfoy, are on our side.”

 

Pansy simply nodded, slowly, never having felt quite so lost for words than she did in this particular conversation, her mind half-drifting away from Seamus. “Crabbe and Goyle are definitely  _ not  _ on your side, but the others, in our year, anyway, are...not that it really matters, now.” A scared and lost looking Blaise, Theo and Daphne caught Pansy’s mind eye. 

 

“Greengrass never seemed the type, I suppose,” Seamus replied with the smallest hint of a laugh. 

 

Daphne, with her immaculate blonde head of hair and far friendlier than Pansy could ever muster demeanor certain didn’t seem the type. “No, she doesn’t.”

 

“They’ve gone?”

 

“They have.”

 

“But you’re still here?”

 

“It...it’s complicated.”

 

“He was planning to leave with you, wasn’t he?”

 

Both Pansy and Seamus’ eyes were drawn to the familiar senseless lying figure next to Pansy. Now seeing very little reason to lie, Pansy replied. “Yeah.”

 

“It makes sense why he kept banging on about what to do if he wasn’t able to be there.”

 

Pansy barely heard him, her mind on something else entirely, something crumpled and innocent enough looking situated in her pocket. She rubbed it warily between a finger and her thumb. She daren’t even take it back out to glance at it. Its contents were far from innocent, and the reality of those contents twisted her insides into a knot of fear and of the very real reality of their words that she would need to face...in only a few short hours. 

 

* * *

 

 

It was still crumpled, still in the same imperfect state a small while later, after Seamus’s presence had been replaced with Winky’s. Now it sat atop her bedside table as casually as if it were a stray piece of homework still to be completed, and not, in fact, the very reason her life, and the life of what she held dearest, might end.

 

_ Fuck. _

 

“Is Miss needing a sleeping draft?” Winky squeaked, from Neville’s bedside, where the elf was busying herself checking a gash on Neville’s shoulder. 

 

“No, Winky, I definitely don’t need a sleeping draft, but I will need you to promise me something.”

 

“Miss is capable of simply commanding Winky whatever Miss desires-”

 

“No, I know,” Pansy interjected. “I-I, oh God.”

 

“What pains Miss?”

 

“Neville’s injuries...they’re bad, aren’t they?”

 

Winky’s head immediately bowed. “The injuries, Miss Pansy, they are numerous, and bad, and unlike anything Winky believes those two wicked ones have inflicted on students this far. This time, Miss Pansy, was different.”   
  


“It was.”

 

“I don’t think this was...” Winky continued, her high pitched voice strained as she gestured vaguely over Neville’s body, “...unplanned.”

 

Pansy’s head shook, her thoughts spinning between Neville, the Carrows, Millicent, and Rabastan as though on a constant loop. “No, it wasn’t.”

 

Pansy knew Winky didn’t miss Pansy’s eyes dart back and forth to the crumpled note. “The bad man?” Winky queried, her voice hushed. 

 

Pansy nodded, her eyes full of tears. “Winky, I…” Pansy began, where her thoughts were screaming her words remained stammered, “...I need to leave, for a while, and I need you to keep him safe.”   
  
“Miss Pansy, where is it you are going?”

 

“I can’t say.”

 

“Winky will not let Miss Pansy go to the bad man, no she will not.”

 

“I have to.”

 

“Why?” Winky asked, a definite snap to her tone.

 

She didn’t need to uncrumple the parchment to see the words scrawled upon it, they were ingrained in the forefront of Pansy’s mind, and probably always would be. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Unless you wish to see myself, and my brother - perhaps his lovely wife, too, march into that cesspit of a school and tear the place apart to finish the noble work we started years ago to end the Longbottom lineage - and that of any other blood traitor that takes our fancy, I suggest you get that tight arse of yours to the address below - by seven. Tonight.  _

 

_ Rabastan Lestrange _

_ Ps hope his bloodied up face doesn’t turn you off too much. _

 

* * *

 

 

Below the words was a scrawled address and a visual description of the pub, to aid her apparition. 

 

“But,” Winky squeaked, “Mr Draco can-”

 

“Draco can’t help me, not with this. It’s only me.” Pansy stated. “It’s only me that can do this.”

  
  
  
  



	39. No One's Princess

Winky did her utmost to convince Pansy against her decision. 

 

“Winky, I  _ need  _ to.”

 

“Oh, Miss Pansy, I still can’t-,”

 

“Look, Winky, I’m sorry about this,” Pansy’s words were strangled through the wave of tears that had began to fall, “I forbid you to tell Draco, or Neville - if by some miracle he awakes - any of this, your job, your _ only _ job now, is to keep him safe,  _ do not  _ let the Carrows have him again, do you understand?” She finished nearly out of breath, already hating herself for the look of betrayal Winky had thrown her way.

 

“Winky understands, Miss Pansy,” the elf replied sadly, “I will go and replenish the stock of pain potions. Mr Neville probably won’t wake soon, but when he does he is going to need them. Winky will strengthen some wards around these rooms and make arrangements with Mr Seamus.”

 

“Please do. If I can’t...convince...Winky if everything goes wrong make sure Finnegan knows to get everyone out.”

 

“Winky will make sure, Miss.”

 

Pansy nodded and watched the small elf leave the bedroom, and through some miraculous spot of chance, or luck or stupidity, found herself relatively calm. The piece of parchment from Rabastan was still scrunched within her palm and it had something of a grounding effect. Crushing the note in her hand created a focus, albeit a meek one, but a focus point nonetheless that didn’t involve the weight of the reality of her decision. 

 

Neville’s face was unworried and serene-looking; obviously the dreamless sleep potion combined with the vast concoction of pain elixirs had done their job. The peacefulness that emanated from him was oddly intoxicating to her, especially considering her rapidly approaching plan of action. 

 

Wrenching her gaze away from Neville’s sleeping form, Pansy busied herself with dressing, appreciating the mundaneness that came from brushing her hair, and pulled on her socks, unconsciously pausing every minute or two to look back over at Neville, all at once grateful he didn’t stir and yet terrifyingly uncomfortable that she knew he wouldn’t, not yet. And when he finally did, she may well not be there to greet him. 

 

The more she considered it, the chance of getting away from Rabastan and back to the castle seemed more and more unlikely.

 

She wouldn’t know how Neville's wounds felt, or be there to state that he’d passed out after what the Carrows inflicted, she wouldn’t be the one to explain what happened, or what Draco, and then Winky had done to save him - she hoped he would know how much he owed them. How much  _ she  _ owed them. She wouldn’t be able to even try to make him better. 

 

As she planted a soft, lingering kiss upon his forehead, Pansy took a long breath in through her nose, trying to take in every last part of his scent that she could, not knowing if she would ever kiss him again.

 

Rising, she allowed herself a few more seconds of the reprieve that came from watching his peaceful form, before she took one last deep breath and turned her body in one swift movement.

 

It took her only five steps to reach the door, her hand grasped the handle as she turned it, forcing the door ajar, before Pansy Parkinson exited the safety of her bedroom, and began the journey towards the most Gryffindor thing she had ever done.  

  
  


* * *

 

 

The castle was exactly how she imagined it would be, deserted. The time read ten to seven now, and therefore most students would have eaten and returned to their dorms, or possibly wherever Neville was staying with his friends. Once upon a school year, in fact, in any other year she could remember, seven was no time for deserted halls and echoed, lonely footsteps. Were it only one year earlier, the halls would be full of the cackles of teenage girls, of stolen kisses between couples from different Houses. Pansy didn’t know whether to smile or cry at the thought. Could, somewhere in a life that wasn’t theirs, they have existed in a happier time as they did now: in love? Not hidden, and not fighting. 

 

Fighting was all they’d done. For months. Nevelle openly defied everything flung at him with determination that erupted from him in every way, as the fire burned in his eyes and the Gryffindor lion roared from his soul. And then, there was Pansy, who had fought with everything she’d ever been taught, hidden, watching from darkness, her serpentine mask a guise, enabling her to hide from view. 

 

They were both fighting; him in clear sight, and she with everything she’s ever known. 

 

Her determined footsteps click-clacked loudly, echoing around the deserted corridors as she made her way through the school until she found herself, far sooner than she would have liked truth be told, outside the front door, and descended to the grounds. 

 

The gradient of the sloping area meant that Pansy walked even quicker as she headed towards the main gates, her wand was grasped within her right hand, rigidly pointed upwards as she eyed the cloaked, airborne figures that were swooping near the gated entrance. 

 

_ Something happy. Think of something happy.  _

 

There was only one thing that made Pansy truly happy, and she had just left him to meet the one who had ruined his life. The realisation brought forth a tear Pansy hadn’t realised was so close to her eyelid. 

 

_ Not now, good times, think of the good times. _

 

Almost every memory she had of Neville was a good one, but one instantly came to mind, her favourite place to revisit in her daydreams.

 

_ Greenhouse. Picnic. Neville. Greenhouse. Picnic. Neville. _

 

_ I love you. _

 

“Expecto Patronum!” she cried, and to her shock, a large white mist erupted from the end of her wand, it held no corporeal form, but it was enough, and as long as she kept the memory of that night alive in her mind, it was enough to get her properly past the gates, and able to apparate. 

 

_ I love you. _

 

The wrought iron opened easily without magic,  _ they must not even bother to lock them anymore,  _ Pansy realised. It made sense, she mused, not many students would brave sneaking out now. Taking one last glance back towards the majestic castle, she stepped through the ground’s exit.

 

_ This is for you. _

 

Pansy knew she could technically  apparate once she was off the school’s grounds, but made a few strides further down the path, her patronus cloud had begun to waver, and Pansy knew she didn’t have long before it disappeared entirely. 

 

_ Deep breaths.  _

 

_ I love you. _

 

_ Don’t think. _

 

_ I’m sorry. _

 

_ Just go. _

 

_ Forgive me. _

 

And with a sharp crack she knew would echo into the night, Pansy disappeared.

 

* * *

 

 

The address Rabastan had written down had led her to apparate into what appeared to be the tiny, dimly lit pub he had described. The room was so small that Pansy, who had appeared in one corner, didn’t believe she was more than ten paces away from any other part of the room.    
  
The bar was sparsely occupied, and Pansy counted six other occupants, three of whom she recognised. Draco’s father, Lucius was sitting at a small table with a wide set man who she believed was Crabbe Sr, and another she did not know. 

 

Leaning against the bar, his eyes already boring into hers, stood a familiar, greasy haired figure. Rabastan’s posture shifted to face her, a crooked smile present on his sallow face. 

 

_ Breathe. _

 

Pansy straightened her spine, the jarring feeling that accompanied apparition was dissipating, and instead was replaced by a harrowing chill that seemed to be seeping into each of her very bones. She met his eyes with her own and nodded once, acknowledging the very person she wished to high hells she never had to acknowledge at all. Pansy set her jaw into what she hoped was a nonchalant expression and made her way towards him, avoiding the surprised look in the corner of her peripheral vision informing her Lucius Malfoy was currently bestowing her with. 

 

She reached Rabastan within seconds, internally cursing the small proximity of the bar. 

 

“Here to save your pitiful prick of a boyfriend?” he slurred.

 

“No,” she answered, her heart hammering fast as she struggled to maintain composure. Her eyes trailed the circumference of the room as she continued, “I’ve come to prove that everything you think you know, is wrong.” Pausing, Pansy briefly scanned her surroundings once more, looking for any way to postpone the inevitable exit, “And because I could really use a drink.”

 

“Is tha’ right?” Rabastan answered in one breath before throwing the remainder of a tumbler of black liquid down his throat. “A drink then. Afterwards we can make a move, and you can do all the provin’ you want.” 

 

Her eyes found the numerous dusty bottles of liquor housed behind the bar, a sleazy looking bald man stood, arms crossed in front of the middle bottles. He stepped forward, his eyebrows momentarily raised in a questioning fashion.

 

“Same again for me, Frank, and Pansy?” He spoke her name with what in any other circumstance may have been gentleness. Here, however, it felt sinister and wrong. 

 

Pansy briefly scanned the bottles, her eyes settling on a green hexagonal urn-like cruet close to her position, “I’ll have some of that gin,” she answered, scrutinising the label, “with gillywater.”

 

“Coming up,” Frank replied, busying himself with the beverages.

 

“So,” Rabastan began, and Pansy wished he wouldn’t force the politeness that put her on edge even more. Her fingertips grazed her wand, hoping it might grant her some form of strength, so far, however, it hadn’t. “How’s school?”

  
“Shit,” Pansy replied honestly.

 

Snorting in response, Rabastan took the pair of drinks from Frank, and handed the gin and gillywater combination to Pansy before taking a deep glug from his own. “And how are dear Alecto and Amycus doing?”

 

_ Well, last I knew they, at your request, after my cowardly friend let you in her dense brain, tortured my freedom fighter boyfriend to scare the shit out of me to scare me into being more pliable to come here, to meet your ugly face.  _

 

“Friends of yours?”

 

He snorted again, “Not quite, pair of dumb fucks.”

 

“You’re not wrong there.”

 

Try as she might, Pansy couldn’t make her drink last for longer than around ten minutes, and before long, she was staring at the base of an empty glass. Her sense of fear was numbed slightly, but appeared full force as she felt a large hand wrap itself around her bicep. 

 

“Time to go, Princess.”

 

_ I’m no one's Princess, dickhead. _

 

Her defiance, unfortunately, went no further than her thoughts as Pansy allowed herself to be manhandled by the Death Eater. She swallowed dryly as he forced her to her feet and brought her legs out from the barstool she had been perched upon. 

 

“Let’s go.” Rabastan slurred, his hand still gripping painfully into her arm as she watched the surroundings of the pub dissolve before her eyes. Pansy had only side along apparated a few times in the last few years, and she had hated it every time, although  _ this _ time definitely felt worse than most. 

 

* * *

 

 

They emerged in a primarily bare and none too striking bedroom, but Pansy suspected it was Rabastan’s own. A large walnut coloured four poster took up the majority of the room, flanked by two dusty bedside cabinets fashioned in the same dark wood. The drapes were bedraggled and at one point may have been white, now however, they sported an uninspired grey colouring. 

 

Rabastan himself had let go of Pansy’s arm, and settled himself at the foot of the bed. He sat confidently, his knees spread wide and his hands gripped together behind the back of his head. Pansy wanted nothing more than to avoid his gaze, but found her eyes drawn to his once more, the glassy, unblinking expression he wore was unnerving. 

 

_ Okay, Pansy, you need to be smart here, keep him talking. _

 

“Nice place,” she remarked, pacing away from him as she feigned an interest in a nearby wall hanging, her hands had shot into the pocket of her jacket at the moment he had released her, and her right hand was caressing the smooth handle of her wand.

 

Rabastan scoffed in response. “Don’t insult me, it’s a shithole, but don’t worry, you can decorate it any way you want.”

 

_ What. _

 

Even her strongest of intuition to make the situation as far from dangerous as possible,  _ if  _ that were even possible, wasn’t enough to keep the bluntness from her voice. “Why would I decorate it?”

 

“Because,” he rose, his thin mouth stretching maniacally, “in a few months time, you’ll be moving here.”

 

_ Will I, fuck. _

 

“I don’t understand,” Pansy croaked, not entirely sure she was hearing him correctly,  _ moving here,  _ why on Earth would she move here? He wanted to fuck her, Pansy could see that. He most likely wanted to use her, and test her loyalty definitely, that was what she had expected,  _ that  _ was what she had expected to walk into.

 

“He still hasn’t told you?” Rabastan queried, snickering at her, “makes sense, your father is a fucking coward, after all.”

 

“What does any of this have to do with my father?” 

 

He studied her for a moment before closing the gap between them. Pansy could see every individual strand of hair making up the clump that had fallen in front of his left eye. She fought with herself,  _ pleaded  _ with her subconscious to grant her with the strength to wrench her eyes from him, but she didn’t,  _ couldn’t. _ She simply stood stark still, watching his dull, drunken eyes as he hissed at her a truth so vile that Pansy felt nothing but the thunderous, internal screaming her mind was unable to halt. 

 

“Your father is only a Death Eater because he bought his way in. Care to take a guess at how he did that?” Pansy didn’t dare guess and managed only to shake her head a touch as she swallowed, entirely rooted to the spot.  “No? Why, with you, beautiful. He offered up his dear, pure blooded,  _ almost of age  _ daughter. And me? Well, I was the highest bidder.”

 

“No, y-you’re lying.” Pansy stammered, _ no _ , she deciphered,  _ this  _ was not happening. The man would never have won father of the year, but he wouldn’t have done something so heinous, would he?

 

“Yes,” Rabastan countered, triumphantly, and Pansy felt a terrible cold flood through her veins as she felt his hand clamp the base of her skull, forcing her head forwards until a pair of unfamiliar, course lips met her own, so unlike Neville’s…. _ no _ , she would  _ not  _ think about Neville in Rabastan’s company. 

 

“Nnngh,  _ NO _ !” Pansy heard her own voice shout as she realised her hands were poised outwards, palms facing Rabastan.  _ Had she pushed him? _ She didn’t know. As it turned out, she didn’t seem to know very much of anything in that moment.

 

He was situated about half a metre in front of her, and if Pansy had expected a murderous look on his face at her action, she was sorely mistaken. Murderous would have been a vast improvement on the sinister grin he was currently presenting her with. 

  
“You like it rough, baby, that’s fine by me.” He slurred, still clearly highly intoxicated, which luckily meant his uncoordinated clenched fist missed her jaw by a good few inches. Or it would have been lucky if he didn’t use that fact as reason to change his tact. Pansy had no choice but to clench her eyes closed as he balled fistfulls of hair at the nape of her neck, anchoring her perfectly in place to take his second punch straight to the centre of her face, which he did as he echoed a howl of delight around the bedroom. 

 

The sickening crunch, combined with the blinding pain was enough for Pansy to deduce that her nose was most likely broken. 

 

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” 

 

Pansy didn’t respond, her left hand was pressed into her wounded nose, fear and pain gripped her, forcing her to remain static as she struggled for air. Somewhere close to her heart, she felt a distant warmth radiate from where she knew the shikkane, that had once belonged to Alice Longbottom, lay against her skin. It couldn’t protect her, Pansy knew, just as it couldn’t protect its former owner. Not from  _ him _ . 

 

“Now, I’ve waited far too long for this,” she heard Rabastan say from somewhere ahead of her. His intent was clear, and Pansy managed to force her eyes open just enough to see him effortlessly rip his shirt open before discarding the garment to the floor at Pansy’s right.

 

“No,” she gasped, “no, I...no.” Her head and hands shook heavily, but she wouldn’t,  _ couldn’t _ submit to him willingly.    
  
_ He’s  _ going _ to take me, but he isn’t allowed to break me. _

 

Her dismal decision was not much to hold onto as she felt Rabastan’s boot make contact first with her leg. Her shin felt as though it had splintered into a thousand pieces as she collapsed, clutching the limb with both her blood-streaked hands. The second contact collided with her stomach, pushing the remainder of the air from her already winded body. 

 

“Who would have guessed, prim and proper Miss Parkinson was a huge masochist,” she heard him growl from above.

 

Pansy coughed, and the simple movement caused new pain to sear through her already agonising face.

 

_ Won’t. Break. Me. _

 

She became aware of Rabastan’s hand closing itself around her right shoulder, and felt his hot breath as he whispered into her ear, “just admit you want me, darling, and the pain will stop.”

 

The smartest thing to do, was obviously to do as she was told, but something deep within her refused. Pansy Parkinson wasn’t known for being smart, Pansy Parkinson was known for being a stubborn cow and hell if she was throwing that reputation away for anyone. 

 

Least of all him. 

 

“Go to Hell.”

 

The first time his fist had made contact with her face, Pansy had never considered he could be holding back, however the sheer force in which his hand connected with her jaw was unlike anything Pansy believed the human body alone was capable of. Just like before, he had clamped his left hand into an ironclad grip in her hair. The next punch met the skin just above her right eye, and the one after collided with the centre of her chest, forcing an abrupt outward breath with an excruciating whoosh. 

 

“I’m going to throw you on that bed, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll  _ beg  _ me to go back to punching seven shades of shit out of you, and,” he tightened the grip on her hair, “do you know what else? You’re going to  _ love  _ every second of it.”

 

Pansy scarcely had time to process any part of his admitted plans before she became painfully aware she had been picked up and was being thrown, ungraciously, through the air. She landed atop the mattress with a soft flump. 

 

_ No. No. No! _

 

He was on top of her in what felt like less than a second, roughly clawing at her clothing, ripping her coat, and more importantly her wand from her person first. 

 

Pansy closed her eyes at the moment she heard her top rip from his enthusiastic motions. She would not cry, inside she would sob, but he would not see a single tear. Of that she was sure. 

 

Pansy had never felt more helpless as she lay, encaged by his too-strong thighs. Her top had been wrenched upwards, exposing her bra, clearly Rabastan didn't feel the need to unclothe her entirely, as her top remained rumpled around her neck. 

 

She felt greedy hands grope her chest, her stomach clenching tightly as his hands snuck under the cups of her bra and she felt further surges of pain as he tugged and grabbed at her breasts, mercilessly. 

 

Pansy eventually opened her eyes, if only to relieve some of the pain that came from clenching the muscles around her face. She didn't look at Rabastan, instead focusing on a large crack that weaved across the chipped paintwork of his ceiling. 

 

The crack allowed part of her subconscious to detach from the present invasion of her dignity and her privacy. She knew he had began to unbutton her trousers, and she was aware of his hand roughly pushed downwards. She felt his fingers brush against the edge of her innermost area. 

 

“You don't feel very...ready,” she heard him sneer, and something, at his words, broke her resolve. Pansy felt every last piece of strength gather and focus in her right leg, the leg that was centred the most under Rabastan’s crotch. 

 

The roar that emanated from him as her shin connected with his testicles was like pure adrenaline to Pansy, and despite her injuries, the bottom of both of her boots found their way to the bottom of Rabastan’s stomach. Drawing her knees up to as close to her chest as she was able to muster, Pansy only had one thought. 

 

_ No, further down.  _

 

The soles of her boots hit him square in the groin, and his momentary lapse in concentration was enough. 

 

_ Focus your magic.  _

 

“Accio wand,” Pansy thought as loud as her mind was able as she kicked herself upwards, landing painfully on the floor, a fleeting feeling of triumph erupting through her she felt her wand fly into her hand.

 

“OH NO YOU DON’T!” Rabastan roared, and the last thing Pansy saw before her apparition wrenched her from his presence was the same hand outstretched that moments before had been maliciously assaulting her. 

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank ‘Nuvole Bianche’, by Ludovico Einaudi, for getting me through this.


	40. Be Strong, Believe

A cold, wet  _ something  _ erupted beneath her, and suddenly Pansy realised she had made it. It took her a long minute to accept the buildings of Hogsmeade were looming over her - the outline of each distinctly pointed roof was a piercingly visible pure black silhouette - as a bright, almost full moon illuminated the sky with the distant mountains beyond them.

 

Pansy had no idea how to feel, how to  _ act _ , or what to understand. Her emotions gradually became a confusing blend of everything, and suddenly nothing. She was aware she was breathing, and she knew it was raining. These two facts she held onto, because everything else was a confusing jumble of grey areas and fleeting arrays of confusing turmoil which spoke truths of the past hour Pansy wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge. 

 

It took her what could have been mere seconds, or several minutes, to even realise she was no longer standing. Or perhaps she’d never been standing at all. Perhaps somehow her body had withdrawn itself into a crouch during her apparition. She found herself bizarrely wondering if she’d ever be able to stand again. And somehow, stranger still, the fact that her small frame was able to crouch at all had offered her a small amount of comfort. Even the buildings with their pointed roofs and stark shadows felt somewhat rude and distasteful, and Pansy found herself unable to look at them. For when she did, she felt bile rise in her throat. Instead, her eyes focussed on the grey, wet cobbles currently beneath her. 

 

_ I’m breathing.  _

 

_ It’s raining. _

 

_ I’m breathing. _

 

_ It’s raining. _

 

And there she stayed, arms wrapped loosely around her chest, until she couldn’t. Until her legs, already painful from remaining in the crouched position, gave way. Her clothes and hair, which were so soaked Pansy could have literally wrung them out, caused her to feel a cold which could no longer be described as a mere uncomfort, but a deathly ice, ripping into her already broken soul.

 

Pansy had no idea why or  _ how  _ she began to move, yet she did. And she walked, in the wet moonlight, down Hogsmeade’s high street. Past the shops she’d grown to love, shops that she’d frequented every year since she was thirteen, past the  _ Three Broomsticks _ where she’d sat on silly  _ dates  _ with Draco; where she’d gossiped with Daphne…

 

_ Oh, Daphne!  _

 

Pansy envisaged her best friend surrounded in a cloud of disappointment;  _ You went to him, wearing that,  _ she’d emphasize the last word in an air of disdain whilst gesturing at the revealing, purposefully chosen, now ripped top,  _ and didn’t think he’d think he was getting some- _

 

Had she had any energy left, Pansy would have screamed. She knew her mental image of Daphne was right, of course. She had worn what she knew would get Rabastan’s attention, hoping to - _ what?  _ Warn him off? Give him a false disillusionment that  _ she  _ called some kind of shots. That  _ she,  _ a seventeen year old girl was in charge rather than a man who had not only survived, but actually,  _ so he seemed to believe anyway, thrived _ in Azkaban? No, Pansy’s head shook in spite of herself. She knew she was never in charge of  _ any  _ of their exchanges. She’d gone to convince him however the hell she had to, that she was on his side.

 

No, Pansy knew that was a lie. 

 

She’d gone to save Neville, by any means necessary. 

 

And Neville, another man had touched her.  _ He’ll never want me again, not now,  _ Pansy thought, heartbroken. The icy cold that already enveloped her seemed to all at once thicken. She felt herself stooping, as though the very cobbles were drawing her to them. Rabastan’s face seemed to appear, haunted and smiling, in every cobble, in every window, and every doorway she now looked upon. She frantically darted her eyes in any and every direction, praying for a reprise from Rabastan’s leering, which, even when imaginary was still incredibly effective at causing real fear to erupt from Pansy like a fiery volcano. 

 

_ And you’re going to love it.  _

 

The memory of the words sliced through her like a knife and this time, no amount of exhaustion could keep away her screams as Pansy collapsed and slammed into a nearby doorway, her sobs only broken up by intermittent bouts of wailing. No longer remembering who she was, as her mind’s eye became fogged, and consumed with the image of Rabastan moving towards her, and then on top of her, his hands moving towards…-

 

CRACK

 

The noise cracked the air like a whip. Pansy was aware, dully, of a commotion but was barely interested  in learning the cause. The cold was somehow worsening. There was nothing but its chill and the memory of the last few hours. Only  _ him _ , only Rabastan and what he’d done, what he’d  _ almost  _ done. Her psyche consumed with nothing but the fresh memories she knew she just wasn’t strong enough to leave behind.

 

“Get back! You will not touch her!” A small, yet confident voice emitted, as a strong silver light blazed against Pansy’s eyelids. 

 

“I said GET BACK!”

 

Pansy found herself able to think a tiny bit clearer and knew she could open her eyes again, though she desperately wanted to avoid doing so, sure that Rabastan’s face was all she would be able to see. At present, she was clinging to a desperate darkness that allowed her to see nothing as she tried with all her might to push everything away from her foresight. 

 

_ Nothing was better than anything else. _

 

Feeling a hand place itself onto her right elbow, all Pansy’s efforts ceased and once again, Rabastan’s face was right in front of her clamped-shut eyes as his hands and their too tight grip closed in around her forearms.

 

_ NO! No, please!  _ She begged,  unsure if she was saying so out loud or screaming in her mind. Her arms flailing wildly and her head shaking fiercely, her breathing betrayed her as she failed to catch any breath, feeling as though a right band had wound its way around her chest. 

 

“It is okay, Miss Pansy. You’re safe now.”

 

Pansy stopped flailing, yet was unable to regain control of her breathing, even when she realised who the voice belonged to, she was entirely untrusting of the recognition. 

 

_ But it can’t be. _

 

_ I’m going to die. _

 

The more she fought against the inability to breath the sensation only worsened, absolute terror gripped her, certain she was seconds from death until, from nowhere, her breathing eased and she was finally able to open her heavy eyes. They met, of all things, a concerned looking house elf, hands poised from obviously having just clicked her fingers as she looked at those long bunny ears and big, teary eyes. Pansy became breathless for a whole new reason as green eyes met brown, and gratitude met comfort.

 

Winky blinked up at the witch and squeaked, “Miss Pansy, Winky is here. We’re leaving now.”

 

“Winky-”

 

“Be strong-”

 

“I don’t un-.”

 

“You will,” Winky continued, holding Pansy tightly as she prepared to apparate the two of them. The elf closed her eyes, and so did Pansy, as both the reality from what had happened and the relief had somehow not coursed through her, the elf’s next words echoing through the night.

 

“Be strong, believe.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ End of Part Two _


	41. Part Three | Burn with me - Forty-One. Home

Never in her life had Pansy clung to anything with as much intensity as she did that small elf, as Winky apparated the pair from a dreary Diagon Alley, to whatever unknown location it was that they were now crouched in.

 

One brief opening of her tear-filled eyes, before clamping her lids shut once more informed her of one thing: they weren’t at Hogwarts.

 

A thundering of what Pansy could only assume was footsteps approached the duo, but Pansy felt very little desire to find out whom they happened to belong to, or indeed why they were here, wherever here happened to be.

 

Several cries broke the silence only previously filled by Pansy’s ragged breathing.

 

“Thank fuck!”

 

“Oh, my gosh! Is she-”

 

“Pans!”

 

Vaguely, Pansy was dimly able to place three names to each of the three voices, although she wondered, as the reality seemed entirely impossible, if she happened to be hallucinating.

The voices continued to speak in a mixed babble, until a smooth, achingly familiar male tone broke through, louder than the others.

 

“Where did you find her?” _Blaise_

 

“Hogsmeade,” the small elf Pansy was still clinging to squeaked.

 

“Oh, Pansy,” it was closer this time, whispered through a sob and accompanied by a soft graze of fingertips on Pansy’s shoulder. The feeling, Pansy knew, logically, shouldn’t have made her chest constrict and cause bile to rise in her throat, but that’s exactly what the slight touch of Daphne’s hand had done. _Daphne_

 

The third, somewhat strangled as though spoken through a constricting sea of emotion, Pansy heard begin to ask, “Was that sick fuck-” _Theo_

 

“No,” Winky interrupted.

 

For a moment that may have been one minute or thirty no one spoke, the silence only broken when a shuffling of feet somewhere behind her began to move, and Pansy felt Winky shift slightly, guiding – but not forcing, her to sit up slightly.

 

She had questions, numerous. How on earth were she and Winky now with Daphne, Theo and Blaise? Where was Draco? Where was-

 

Pansy swallowed, not knowing where she wished to scream, or never utter another word.

Between them, Winky and Daphne discussed, their voices low, manoeuvring Pansy to a nearby bed. Pansy didn’t object when the two slowly helped her to her feet. Involuntarily, Pansy flinched whenever an unexpected hand touched a part of her she wasn’t expecting.

 

 _Will it always be this way?_ The wondering was a bleak one.

 

It was only once she was sitting on the bedcovers, did Pansy find any desire to examine her surroundings. A small bedroom met her eyes, modestly decorated and sparsely furnished, lit by a soft candlelight. The room, she supposed, would have been comfortable enough, for anyone whose circumstances didn’t involve vivid recollections of Rabastan-

 

“How did you know where they were?” Pansy blurted, her eyes darting to meet Winky’s, desperate, albeit fruitlessly, to interrupt her own thoughts.

 

“Winky went to the meeting place, Miss…and found clues, placed by Miss Daphne, yes she did. Then Winky returned first to Hogwarts, and then to Hogsmeade, in the hope that Miss Pansy would return to the place she left from,” the elf blinked, her large, round eyes suddenly brimming with tears, “and she did.”

 

“But,” Neville’s unconscious form swam in front of Pansy’s mind’s eye, “Neville, I can’t-”

 

“Winky has left Mr Draco instructions on how to move Mr Neville, as safely as Winky knows how. They ought to be arriving here, oh – any moment now.”

 

At Winky’s last word, as though on a timer, a crack was heard from some other location in whatever house they were currently occupying.

 

All at once Pansy gasped – _has Draco managed it?_ She heard Theo and Blaise collectively roar, Daphne jumped a good foot in the air, her left palm clamped to her mouth and Winky, smiling softly to no one in particular, muttered, “Winky always knows, oh yes she does.”

Winky stood and begun to move towards the door, although hesitantly. Daphne, after a brief glance from Pansy, did not move.

 

“Y-you should-”

 

“No,” Daphne replied simply, “I should be here with you.”

 

At Daphne’s words, Winky bowed her small head once, and left. Left to where Pansy ought to, and yet somehow, she seemed unable to so much as rise from the bed.

 

“I should…” Pansy trailed off, feebly.

 

“No, you shouldn’t do anything.”

 

“But…Neville…”

 

“You’ll know everything soon enough.”

 

“I should still,” Pansy let out a breath that emerged as a strangled gasp, “but I can’t move!” She cried the words with an energy she hadn’t known she possessed. “Daphne, I don’t…”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Pansy didn’t reply, her chest hurting as it heaved, the tops of her arms did too, where her own fingernails were digging in as she tried, entirely unsuccessfully, to hug her own pain away.

 

Somehow, in that moment, she needed the pain. Pansy had once been told that hope is stronger than pain, but she had none of that, and so creating her own pain was, for now, all that was keeping that which he inflicted at bay. Because Daphne, as kind as she was, was wrong.

 

It wasn’t okay.

 

Pansy didn’t know if it would ever be okay again.

And so, perhaps selfishly, perhaps wrongly, perhaps needlessly, she stayed on the bed, neither she nor Daphne speaking, the only noises heard were a few dim voices from somewhere unknown beyond the door. They had moved, Pansy gathered, considering the lowered volume she could now hear the muffled sounds, to another room within whatever house they were in.

 

It wasn’t long, or perhaps it was – Pansy didn’t know, until the bedroom door did open, and a strained – too strained, face, framed with hair cooler than ice, appeared.

His eyes, so grey Pansy often wondered if they were created from a thunderstorm, were harsh, but altogether softened as they sought her own out. Green met grey and familiarity met nothing they’d ever known or dealt with before.

 

He crossed the room in a few long strides and, unlike before, Pansy, managing now to stand – just, didn’t want to shy away from the touch, and embraced his waiting chest with everything she had.

 

_I’m sorry_

 

“I’m so-”

 

_I’m sorry_

 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

 

She couldn’t have, despite wanting to.

 

Since she’d left Rabastan, real tears hadn’t seemed able to form. Ragged, dry sobs of nothingness had, and her chest had felt close to collapse, but now, she cried in a way she hadn’t in years.

It lasted longer than she would have hoped, but shorter than she would, truth be told, have needed, had Rabastan’s actions been the only Death Eater attack Pansy currently had to worry about.

 

“How is he?” she gasped the words through strangled cries.

 

“He’s okay, Winky is seeing to him now, he shouldn’t have been side-along-d in his condition at all, but Winky found a potion that stabilised him enough for me to do it.”

 

For the first time, it hit her how much she didn’t know. “How did Winky, I forbade-”

 

“Yeah,” Draco began, stepping away from Pansy just enough to guide her, and himself, back onto the bed. Realising that at some point Blaise had re-entered the room, enabling him, along with Daphne – whose position hadn’t changed, to hear Draco’s tale. “It wasn’t Winky that told me anything, not straight away, but it didn’t take much guesswork what was going on once I learned that Raba- Lestrange knew about you and Longbottom.”

 

His words felt like a dagger of ice through her stomach. The only person that could have informed Draco that was the last person, except for perhaps Rabastan himself, that Pansy wished to see.

 

Theo’s absence was suddenly altogether deafening. “Please, tell me she’s not here.”

 

* * *

  


It didn’t take long, all things considered, to fill Daphne and Blaise in on the chain of events, beginning with Millicent’s confession, leading to Rabastan’s note and Pansy’s departure from the castle. As it turned out, Millicent had, indeed, sought out Draco afterwards and explained everything, which, according to the blond wizard had been all he’d needed to jigsaw the pieces of the, in his words, _flimsy lie_ , that Winky had told him. Though he assured Pansy that he would absolutely not blame the House Flf for doing so given that Pansy had ordered Winky to not say anything, and despite understanding Pansy’s own reasoning, was entirely pissed off to high heavens at her for going to meet her attacker.

 

Once Draco had established that Pansy had gone, he and Winky had set their own plan in motion, Winky assuring Draco that she would be the one to find Pansy – despite Draco’s insistence that he go, since Neville would be apparated better, in his comatose and now even more drugged, state, with a larger being than a house elf.

 

“Had you not been here when we arrived,” Draco stated, an almost growl-like sound present within his words, “I’d have been going to tear the bastard a new one.”

 

Thankfully, of course, Pansy and Winky had arrived after the latter deciphered Daphne’s hints left around the initial rendezvous point they’d decided on what felt like forever ago and had instructed Theo and Blaise – who Pansy could scarcely remember leaving the room, let along the building, to go exactly there and meet Draco, and, Pansy had swallowed dryly, Millicent – whose apparent help in the situation was not, in any way, welcome or comforting news to Pansy’s ears, to keep Neville stable as they returned to wherever the hell the currently were.

 

“Wait, this still doesn’t explain why you couldn’t meet us-” Pansy met Blaise’s deep, dark eyes, his brow was furrowed in a mixture of what was probably confusion and concern as he spoke. Pansy held her hand, palm facing out, as she rose from the bed.

 

“Draco can fill you in on anything else,” she turned to the wizard in question, “I need to see him.”

 

Draco promptly nodded. “Two doors along.” Pansy felt his fingertips gently squeeze her upper arm. She tried to ignore the rise of bile in her throat and her body’s impulse to wrench herself from him, despite knowing it should have been a comforting gesture. “I’m so fucking glad you’re alright.”

 

“Me too,” Pansy replied flatly, not at all believing the words as she tried not to wince again, this time at the constant pain that was still radiating from her stomach. At some point, she was sure, although she couldn’t pinpoint when, Winky and Daphne had placed healing charms over what she was certain must be the absolute wreck of where her face used to be, the rest of her he had hurt, however, remained raw and still very much painful.

 

Clearly, Draco didn’t miss the grimace that had accompanied the twinges of pain. “And once we’re settled, err,” he glanced around, “here, you’re going take as many potions as your boyfriend has.”

 

Pansy opened her mouth, but Draco, with a stern look, forced her to close it again.

 

“Don’t fucking argue.”

 

And, despite it being so unlike her, she didn’t.

  


Neville had been placed, just as Draco had informed her, a further, similar bedroom. Pansy entered, keeping her footsteps as soft as she could, her eyes trailing over his still form.

 

“He’s okay,” Winky’s small voice ventured from somewhere to Pansy’s left.  

 

Pansy’s line of sight was reserved solely for Neville. Outwardly, she managed only a brief nod to acknowledge Winky’s words. Inwardly, they were possibly all that would keep her sane.

 

As she approached the bed, she was dimly aware of Winky arranging what sounded like several potion bottles, and then light footsteps before the door clicked closed. Swallowing, not knowing whether to be grateful that for the first time Rabastan’s leering expression was not at the forefront of her mind, what was there instead was Neville’s battered and bruised, yet still – to Pansy - beautiful face.

 

She considered a nearby chair for a fraction of a second before knowing she had to stay closer to him, and so positioned herself as gently as she could next to him on the bed, her fingertips finding their way to brush the side of his cheek.

 

How long she stayed, she didn’t know, she wasn’t disturbed until a soft knock on the door broke her already broken thoughts, bringing her into the very-painful present and away from a place not too long ago, although that might have been a lifetime before, where Neville had taken her to the greenhouse.

 

_“Are you going to fuck me?”_

 

_“No, I’m going to make love to you.”_

 

_“You’re going to love it.”_

 

The last words weren’t welcome in her reminiscing, and yet there they were, and Pansy didn’t know how to get rid of them, perhaps she never would.

 

“Pans?”

 

Pansy turned her head to face her best friend. “Hi, Daph.”

 

Gesturing to the tray she held, Daphne took two steps forward.

 

“I’m not hungry,” Pansy said, blunter than she had intended.

 

Daphne smiled. “I know, and I know you’re going to say you don’t want it, but,” she lowered her voice to little more than a whisper, “Winky scares me a bit and so I’m going to need you to at least try a little, okay?”

 

Managing no more than a watery smile, Pansy, the pad of her thumb absentmindedly running over Neville’s wrist, replied, “I’ll try.”

 

“That’s all I’m asking.”

 

“Daph?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

It was easier that she’d anticipated, voicing the thought aloud. “I don’t know what to do.”

 

“You don’t have to do anything, not now. Not while you’re here, we’ve put so many wards around the place. Here, at least, you’re safe.”

 

“I don’t even know where here is.”

 

Daphne’s smile was kind as her eyes moved back and forth between Pansy and Neville. “For now, it’s home.”


	42. Two Unlikely Events

It took a full night and most of the next day before Pansy was willing to leave the still unconscious Neville’s bedside. After Daphne’s gentle hinting and Draco’s less than subtle suggesting, it eventually took Winky’s downright shooing Pansy into a nearby bathroom, before she conceded to have a much-needed wash.

 

The pretence was simple: she hadn’t wanted to leave Neville.

 

The reality, however, was…complex, even to Pansy who didn’t fully understand her reluctance. Until, of course, she was faced with the task of undressing and forced to confront her own battered and bruised naked form, did she find herself breaking down again. 

 

Sinking to the floor, Pansy prayed the silencing charm she’d placed on the bathroom was enough to hide the racked sobs that began to erupt from her. Pulling her knees to her chest, Pansy hugged her arms around them, unwilling to expose any more of her than was necessary to the walls that surrounded her. For the walls, and the mirror, and even the shower and bath she was currently neglecting, had eyes, Pansy found, far more penetrating than those possessed by her friends.

 

It took a monumental amount of the type of emotional strength that Pansy felt severely lacking in for her to bring herself to enter the bathtub. It seemed calmer than the shower, less intrusive, somehow. A bath offered a sense of hiding oneself away whereas a shower presented a level of exposure Pansy felt nauseated at the mere thought of. And yet it still felt too much, too soon…too…naked.

 

She washed herself as quickly as she was able, somehow able to find a kind of forced autopilot to do so. Going through the motions she tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to keep her thoughts blank as she washed the grime and blood and dirt from first her hair, and then her body, rubbing the areas she knew  _ he  _ had touched her more than necessary, far more than necessary, she knew, and yet the pain of scrubbing herself so hard – even over already existing bruising, was somehow a relief, as though pain caused by her own hand was somehow more tolerable - even when it was greater, than pain caused by  _ him. _

 

Emerging red and raw, in many ways cleansed but in many more bereft, Pansy wrapped a fluffy towel gratefully around her sore body and dried herself with a quick spell, too eager to clothe herself to even consider doing so without magic.

 

Winky – Merlin bless that elf, had ensured enough of Pansy’s own clothes had arrived and so at least the materials that now covered her were familiar, a sensation she needed more than most.

What else she needed more than probably anything, was the one thing that was frustratingly impossible – an awake Neville. Pansy didn’t have any clue how she’d tell him, well – anything, about what had occurred between her and Rabastan Lestrange, but she knew the fact that it being between the girl he loved and one of the men who had destroyed his life was a burden she knew she never wished to see flash across the blue of his eyes. And yet, selfishly, she needed to see it, because she needed  _ him,  _ and she hoped against hope that after learning what Rabastan had almost succeeded in doing, that he’d still need her too.  __

But wake, Neville had not. Winky continually assured Pansy that unconscious was the best state for him, given the extent of his injuries, but it didn’t – as much as it possibly should, make it easier for Pansy to be without him, an awake him, anyway. And so, fitfully, she waited, refusing to leave his room unless to visit the bathroom, and refusing to let anyone that wasn’t Winky, Daphne or Draco inside. Eating the bare minimum she could get away with without them becoming cross at her severe lack of anything resembling self-care, and sleeping only in short, nightmare-filled bursts when she positioned herself next to him, wishing that more than anything she’d feel one of his stationary arms snake itself around her and pull her into him and away from her problems. But in a cold irony, the only person she could ever imagine being able to stand the touch of ever again, with the exception of her House Elf, was unable to give her so much as a comforting pat on the arm.

 

After three days of this, Draco, it seemed, had had enough, much to Pansy’s disdain.

 

“Pans,” he began, and she knew that tone and what it meant. Narrowing her eyes from her position at Neville’s bedside, Pansy looked up at Draco through narrowed eyes.

 

“No.”

 

“There’s no need to be stubborn, everyone’s,” he paused, clearly choosing his words carefully, “very worried about you and-”

 

“With all due respect Draco,” Pansy swallowed, “I really  _ don’t care  _ about anyone being worried about me.”

 

“I know, but this is hardly healthy, you need to leave this room, for longer than it takes to have a piss.”

 

Pansy wondered vaguely whether to point out how much Draco had zero right to lecture her on not being the picture of health when he had spent the last few months successfully transitioning himself into a functioning alcoholic. She decided against it. “No.”

 

Clearly not intent with giving up so easily, Pansy watched through eyes that were heavy – too heavy with exhaustion, as Draco crossed the small room in a few strides and sat on a nearby chair. His expression, which had showed first concern, and then frustration, altogether softened into something else entirely. “Pans…”

 

“Don’t,” to her surprise, she choked on the word. “Don’t  _ do  _ that.”

 

“Say your name?”

 

“Say it with pity.”

 

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as he regarded her in silence, obviously weighing up his next words carefully. “Fair enough.”

 

For the first time since arriving, Pansy felt something akin to a sliver of amusement overcome her. “Most people would’ve just denied it.”

 

Draco shrugged. “I’m not most people.”

 

“I know,” she replied honestly. “But I don’t want your pity, Draco.”

 

“I wouldn’t say I do pity you.”

 

Not sure she entirely believed his words, Pansy raised her eyebrows. “No?”

“I feel for you Pans, so fucking much, and I’m angry for you, but no, I don’t pity you.”

 

Not quite knowing how – or perhaps simply not having the energy to reply, Pansy turned her head to Neville’s.

 

“No change?” she heard Draco ask from somewhere behind her.

 

“No change.”

 

For a while neither spoke, but the silence, as it ever was with Pansy and Draco, was comfortable and it wasn’t until she heard the legs of his chair scrape briefly across the bare wooden floor, did Pansy opt to speak to him again, forcing herself to bring forth the one desperate question that had been plaguing her mind since she’d taken up her unwavering position by Neville.

 

“How the hell can I face her?”

 

Draco didn’t answer straight away, instead sighing deeply through his nose. “Honestly? I don’t 

know.”

 

“Well that’s great advice, thanks very much.”

 

He snorted. “It’s all I’ve got, but I will say this. She’s a hell of a lot more scared to face you, than 

you’ll be to see her.”

 

“Did she really help you get him here?”

 

Again, Draco took a second to compose his answer. “Pans, she’s the reason I was able to get him here.”

 

Swallowing down the lump that had formed in her throat, Pansy listened to Draco explain, in somewhat lax detail she imagined, how Millicent had come to him and confessed all, and how Draco had raged and raged at her just as Pansy had. Utilising instructions from Winky, Draco and Millicent had navigated moving and apparating Neville, Millicent having to distract Severus Snape – the headteacher they rarely saw and who Pansy knew was a very accomplished Occlumens, in a very risky and dangerous move. “If she hadn’t had the gumption to do that,” Draco confessed, “he’d have found us, and Longbottom, a few seconds later.”

 

“He’d never have hurt you.”

 

“No,” Draco agreed, “probably not. But,” he nodded towards Neville’s unconscious form, “I doubt he’d have thought twice about hurting him.”

 

“No,” Pansy cast her mind back to the note from the Carrows’ office, which felt excruciatingly like a lifetime ago, and knew she had to concur with Draco’s words. “You’re right. He wouldn’t have thought twice.”

 

If she was honest, just as she had been during her own confrontation with Millicent, Pansy couldn’t say she wouldn’t have done the same, had Daphne suddenly got together with Weasley, she’d have sold the gormless ginger out quicker than she could say her own name if it meant there was a chance of saving her friends, and she told Draco, who nodded, just as much. “Only now,” Pansy swallowed, “it’s not just…” she tried oh so hard to quell the sobs, “it’s not just her giving Neville’s na-name…it’s…”

 

“You now feel it’s the reason why what happened, happened,” Draco finished for her.

It took Pansy far longer than it should to get out anything that resembled English. “I-is that…wrong?”

He surveyed her for several seconds. “It’s understandable, but ultimately yes, I suppose, if you want to be black and white about it, it is misplaced blame,” he replied honestly. “And if you want my opinion, I don’t think you could ever blame her more than she blames herself.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“She hates herself, Pans.”

 

It took her longer than perhaps it should have to muster up the courage to say it, but eventually Pansy took a deep breath, and uttered, “Draco?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Go get Millicent.”

It was uncomfortable and strained; rushed and gradual all at once and was easily one of the hardest conversations Pansy – and she knew Millicent too - had ever had to endure. But it was necessary, and cathartic… and possibly healing. In many ways it hadn’t felt real, not when she thought to all the ways in which she loved the girl, but in so many others it also felt it represented the stark reality of the world they lived in.

 

And that world was messy and cruel and was thrust upon all of them without instruction or rule book, and it held only one real goal: survive.

 

Neither Pansy nor Millicent had spoken for several minutes, not after Millicent’s last tearful apology and Pansy’s equally tearful acceptance, and they were filled with both girls staring gently at the unconscious body beside Pansy.

 

“Do y-you really love him?  _ Really? _ ”

 

Pansy didn’t need to think to answer. “Yes.”

 

“You still seem such an unlikely couple,” Millicent admitted.

 

Pansy smiled gently. “I used to think that too.”

 

“But now you don’t?”

 

“Now I don’t.”

 

His face still showed the very evident signs of the Carrows’ handiwork, his bruising causing a myriad of purple and yellowing shades over his features.

 

“Any idea when he’ll wake up?”

 

Shaking her head sadly, Pansy replied, “No, Winky says it  _ could  _ be any day now, but could also be next week, or longer.”

 

Millicent offered a supportive smile. “At least he’s safe here, you know, to heal.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose. I just wish I could talk to him, it’s…he’s…” she couldn’t continue, instead clamping her palm tight across her mouth, her eyes burning with hot tears she didn’t want to cry.

 

“Oh Pans, ca-can I hug you?”

 

The question surprised her, and was, she realised, very appreciated. Simply nodding, Pansy allowed Millicent to wrap her arms around her shoulders. “He’s going to wake up really soon, I can  _ feel  _ it.”

 

“I don’t even know,” Pansy began after several minutes of nothing but crashing sobs, “what I’ll say when he does.”

 

“You probably won’t know that until you’re facing it.”

 

There was the strangest familiarity that resided with Millicent, Pansy realised. Millicent, in many ways, was far more like Pansy. Why Daphne had ever been sorted into Slytherin, none of them had ever known, but Millicent, just as Pansy was, was a snake through and through. When Daphne wore her kindness on her sleeves; open and obvious for the world to see, both Pansy and Millicent kept theirs by their hearts, locked behind the cage of their ribs, so close anyone would be forgiven for missing it. Where Daphne was outspoken and unapologetic truth, Millicent was whispered secrets and hushed lies and, in many ways, had always been the balance Pansy’s life needed.

 

Pansy wasn’t entirely sure how, exactly, Millicent had persuaded her, when even Draco had failed, but somehow, she found herself descending an unfamiliar staircase and onto the lower level of the cottage they were now staying in.

 

The hush that fell over the others as she and Millicent entered was, to Pansy, deafening. Everyone was situated, mostly sitting in various spots upon one of the two couches or three armchairs. Draco and Theo were standing near a far door which Pansy assumed led towards a kitchen.

 

It was Theo, unsurprisingly, who broke the awkward silence between the group, his eyes having widened altogether at the sight of the two friends. “Fucking hell, Mills is still I one piece.”

 

“Hilarious,” Pansy replied bluntly as she strode, somewhat tentatively, to the edge of one of the couches.

 

Ignoring Theo, Pansy locked eyes with the nearby Daphne – who was sitting on one of the couches, her legs strewn over Blaise’s, and allowed her best friend the briefest hint of a smile.

 

“Are you two…” Daphne’s voice was unusually quiet, and she trailed off with a vague gesture of her hands, looking as though she wasn’t entirely sure she should have asked anything.

 

Pansy knew Millicent was waiting on Pansy to answer, and although Pansy was unsure whether the two would ever be what they once were, in the same vein that if truth be told she didn’t know whether any of them would ever be the same after this year, she nodded. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

 

She heard a low whistle sound from somewhere in Theo and Draco’s general direction, and somehow, with the truly shit, but somehow lifesaving hand the friends had been dealt, they managed, collectively, to retain something of their camaraderie that the six hadn’t shared in what felt – to Pansy – for a long, long time.

 

The evening eventually rolled into night and Pansy felt herself develop an odd numbness that didn’t take her pain away, exactly, but enabled her to forget just enough to laugh at jokes and join in with anecdotes. Perhaps it was the people she loved the most – even if she was missing one most important one, or possibly the most logical explanation was the wine Daphne had placed into her hands earlier in the evening, but Pansy managed to have something that vaguely resembled a good time. It wasn’t until they were deep into a game of truth or dare when two unlikely events occurred.

 

The first came in a stark and unexpected knocking upon the front door.

 

In unison, six wands were gripped, and six bodies rose to standing, every one on guard. Pansy’s eyes darted between the door that led to the front landing, and Draco. The latter was the first to move as he, Theo and Blaise made their way towards the front of the cottage. None had spoken, but Pansy knew, even without having been told, that someone finding them simply shouldn’t have been possible, she knew Daphne, Blaise and Theo would have protected the place as best they could, and between them, Pansy knew they would have made it untraceable to anyone – Muggle or magical.

 

The prospect, however, of someone doing just that, was unnerving at best, and downright terrifying at most. One hasty look at Daphne’s wide-eyed expression told Pansy the blonde shared the same concerns.

 

The girls waited, Pansy barely daring to breath as they listened to what they could hear of the others in the hallway and found herself able to breath when the collective relief of Draco, Theo and Blaise could be heard in their voices. They heard the door open and at first nothing, and then a very familiar – but entirely unexpected voice rang out through the night.

 

“Your protective wards are  _ very _ impressive!”

 

Pansy would know the voice anywhere, and yet still wasn’t prepared to see the face it belonged to stride through the door in front of her, and she was even less prepared for the stride towards her, or the grasp of two firm hands on her shoulders. “Oh, Pansy!”

 

Somehow, she managed a watery smile. “I’m okay.”

 

The reply was sincere. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Is it safe for you to be here?” Pansy heard Draco’s voice echo from somewhere to her left. “If he-”

 

“ _ He _ , is concerned with other issues, at present.”

 

Draco’s voice cracked, and the hands left Pansy’s shoulders, instead busying themselves to the same action on Draco’s upper arms. “Mother, I-”

 

Narcissa, once again, cut her son off, and for the first time Pansy noticed the very un-Narcissa-like lines that were now present upon Draco’s mother’s forehead, and the way she gripped her fingers to Draco’s arms, in what was such a simple gesture but done only as a mother could to her son – a son she was no doubt terrified for every day. “It’s okay, Draco. For a short while.”

 

Pansy didn’t have the chance to see or hear Draco’s response, for the second unlikely event made itself known at that very moment, the news of which was delivered by a breathless looking Winky entering the living room.

 

“Miss Pansy!” the small elf squeaked, her tennis ball eyes wider than usual, “Mr Neville has awoken!”

  
All thought of Narcissa’s arrival and the situation of her friends was suddenly gone as she made her way across the living room. She passed the others in silence as Pansy, with only one thing, and one thing alone to focus on as adrenaline coursed through her and  _ Thank Merlin, thank Merlin, thank Merlin  _ repeated itself over and over within her mind.


	43. You Don't Have To Ask

She wouldn’t have known which was louder had she cared to find out: the pounding of her heart or the pounding of her steps as she thundered up the stairs. Elation and desperation filled her heart in equal measure as she flew through the cottage. 

 

And it was only when the familiar door, the door through which she knew she would find him,  _ her  _ him, was within her grasp, did she take the slightest of pauses as a brief yet overwhelming fear gripped her, not nearly enough to stop her from going to him, but enough still for a jumbled, panicked thought about what would happen were Neville to declare what had happened between Pansy and Rabastan was enough to put a stop to everything there was between Pansy and Neville. It was a fear, a mostly irrational one she often tried to tell herself, that would never come to fruition...she hoped. 

But yet it lingered, unwanted and unwavering, even in the very moments where their reunion - the reunion they were both conscious to enjoy anyway, deserved to not be overshadowed by such a bleak negativity, it was still there, as though bubbling just below Pansy’s surface. 

 

She pushed the door ajar only a second or two after she stopped, far more out of breath than she really ought to have been from the unexpected sprint through the house, and, swallowing as the fluttering of what felt like a small, winged creature in her stomach intensified, Pansy stepped through the door. 

 

Neville was lying, as he had since his arrival, atop the bed, legs still slightly apart and his arms by his sides. His face, however, usually serene and unworried in his unconscious state, was entirely different. 

 

_ He’s awake _

 

The first thing she did was throw her hands to her mouth as unannounced tears pooled in her eyes. 

 

_ He’s awake _

 

The first thing he did, was smile. 

 

* * *

 

 

The tears, instead of dissipating and allowing her the time to reacquaint herself with her boyfriend - time Pansy felt the universe really ought to have owed her, continued to appear and fall with, if anything, a steadily increasing rate. 

Without much thought to the action, Pansy crossed the small room with her hands still firmly clamped over her mouth as she cried silently, drinking in the very sight of him -  _ awake  _ him, over and over. It was a sight she hadn’t quite realised she had feared she’d never see again, and now that she was, it was an entirely overwhelming - for a number of both complicated and simple reasons. 

 

Upon reaching the bed, Pansy wasted no time in sinking onto it, she still didn’t speak, and neither did he but somehow, neither needed to. Pansy, once sitting next to Neville, realised he had sat up just enough to engulf her torso in his arms and pull her into him,  _ onto _ him, and with the same impact as a crack of thunder, a feeling washed over her; a raw and powerful  _ something  _ that Pansy soon realised was the knowledge that somehow, even in the strange unfamiliarity of the cottage she was still anything but used to, in his arms she was home. 

 

And home was where she stayed. Where  _ they  _ stayed, for hours. 

  
  


It was far from the easiest conversation she’d had in her life, but it was possibly the most necessary, despite the hurt - not solely for herself and what she’d endured at Rabastan’s hand, but for Neville, who had felt the force of his world ripped apart once before, due in part by the same hand. 

 

She expected several interruptions as she recounted the tale, but he gave her none, and she expected disappointment on his part, perhaps even anger as she waited for him to roughly push her from him and retort how disgusted with the fact she was now tainted by the madman Neville already despised he was. 

 

Neither of those things happened. 

 

Instead, he held her tighter than he ever had, whispering words full of nothing but reassurances, and with no trace of disappointment, or anger, only concern, and love. 

 

“I only went because the note said...it said he knew about you, and us, and he was going to-”

 

He cut her off, mid-sentence with a gentle yet pointed  _ sshhh  _ sound, and a soft kiss against her temple. Perhaps his unconscious state had been a blessing, because a few days ago the thought of even Neville touching her so intimately was slightly jarring as much as it pained her to even comprehend that Neville could make her feel anything less than amazing. 

 

“I know you did, you brave, incredible soul.”

 

“I thought you’d be so angry with me.”

 

“I am angry,” he replied, kissing her temple once more, “but not with you. Never with you.”

 

She allowed the words to wash over her like a wave, and just like a wave they felt overwhelming and cleansing all at once. Everything, that’s what they were; everything she had needed to hear.

 

They lay in silence for longer than necessary, or perhaps it was an entirely necessary length of time. 

 

_ He’s okay _

 

The knowledge swam through her brain, repeating itself to her over and over. Never in her life had Pansy been more worried about anything than she had been about Neville since she and Draco had been summoned by the Carrows to the dungeons. 

 

It felt like a lifetime ago. 

 

A lifetime of worrying. 

 

“I want…” Pansy trailed off, not entirely confident enough to say the words, no matter how true they were. 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I want to...k-kill him.”

 

His reply altogether shocked her, and then entirely didn’t. “I would too. But,” he paused, “people like him, they’re killers, they do bad things, bad things to  _ good people. _ But we don’t have to be, we don’t have to be killers. We never have to be what he is.”

 

Pansy, not for the first time, felt both entirely confident she could murder Rabastan Lestrange given half the chance, and positive she never could. “What if...I did?” 

 

“Kill him?”

 

“Yeah. Would you...hate me, or...”

 

“No, I could never hate you. I’ll  _ never  _ hate you, Pansy.”

 

Once again, they fell into silence, the only sounds to her ears were the soft thump-thumping of Neville’s heartbeat beneath her left ear.

 

_ He’s okay _

 

‘Okay’, was, in fact, a rather large exaggeration for Neville’s awoken state. Pansy didn’t miss the way he hissed in pain at almost every movement, nor did it escape her that she was most likely doing him more harm than good by relenting to his arms around her and lying on him. When she broached the subject, however, he only held her tighter still. 

 

“You could never hurt me.”

 

“Neville,” she replied with a small sigh, “we both know that’s not true.”

 

“I’m a big tough Gryffindor,” he said, as though that provided enough of an explanation. 

 

Pansy smiled softly against his chest. “I missed you so much.” And she had, more than she’d ever have thought possible. 

 

At her words Pansy felt the soft brush of Neville’s fingertips beneath her chin, nudging her face upwards. She relented, closing her eyes as her lips met his. It was brief and gentle, yet she knew conveyed so much of what both of them needed to say to the other. 

 

Out of what felt like nowhere, Pansy felt the sudden movement of Neville’s hand against her hip. It wasn’t,  _ shouldn’t  _ have been startling, and yet it was as the feel of someone  _ very  _ different’s hands eluded her mind for a long second. 

 

“Pansy?”

 

She must have sat up, yet she didn’t remember doing so, for she found herself kneeling up just next to Neville.

 

At least her breathing, which was all of a sudden laboured, returned to normal fairly quickly. 

 

_ I hate him _

 

“I-I’m sorry.”

 

_ I HATE him _

 

Neville, with difficulty, propped himself up again. “ _ I’m  _ sorry, Pansy. I should never have...not that I meant...but I still should...been more mindful, you know.”

 

She swallowed, determined, steadying her breaths to regularity before looking him in the eyes. “Can you sit up, properly?”

 

With a small succession of grunts, Neville did indeed manage to sit forward. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. 

 

Shaking her head in reply, Pansy swallowed once again. “Never be sorry. Give me your hand.”

 

And he did, he stared, unspeaking, as she took his left hand in both of her own and guided it, unwaveringly despite the slight increase in her heart rate again, back to the same place on her hip. 

 

“Pansy, you don’t have to-”

 

“I  _ want  _ to.” 

 

“You don’t have to rush anything, or…” he trailed off, his blue eyes refusing to leave her face.

 

The corners of her mouth tugged upwards momentarily. “I know I don’t.” 

 

Neville, not moving his hand from her hip, sat forward with some difficulty. “Can I put my other hand on the side of your face?”

 

The fact he felt he needed to ask pained her. “You don’t have to ask.”

 

“Pansy-”

 

“You  _ don’t  _ have to ask.”

 

Accepting her words, Neville placed his palm against her cheek, before bringing his face only a hairsbreadth closer to hers as he gently stroked her cheek.

 

“Kiss me,” she breathed. 

 

The brief furrowing of his brow told her he was probably a mere second away from asking if she was sure, until evidently, he thought better of it, and simply relented to her command. 

 

* * *

 

 

An hour or so later, after several more kisses and even more filling in from Pansy, she and Neville emerged in the cosy living room, hand in hand and, on Pansy’s part anyway, somewhat more relaxed than she had since arriving at the cottage. 

 

A suddenly most-excited Theo was the first to greet Neville with a stark, “Oi, oi!” as he rushed to embrace the Gryffindor in an enveloping bear hug. Daphne followed suit, wrapping her arms around him as she informed the now rather bemused-looking Neville how ecstatic she was that he was okay. Blaise next offered a warm handshake and Draco stepped forward and thumped Neville on the side of the arm. 

 

“Nice to see you awake, Longbottom,” Draco stated. 

 

“Thanks,” Neville replied as he moved, shakily, towards a nearby sofa, “could you have imagined saying that six months ago, Draco?”

 

“Not a chance,” Draco replied with a snort. 

 

Millicent had remained the most quiet throughout, waiting until Neville was seated and as comfortable as he could be - a challenging feat considering he was still grimacing in pain with most of his movements, before approaching. 

 

Pansy, now sitting beside Neville herself, watched Millicent intently. 

 

“Neville I…” Millicent took a shaky breath before continuing. “I’m very sorry.”

 

For a short moment that felt ten times longer than it actually was, Neville didn’t reply. Pansy felt a brief squeeze of her hand, she had explained to Neville exactly what had occurred with Millicent and the altercation between the two friends, as well as the knowledge that without Millicent, Draco would have been unable to move Neville to safety. It had taken a lot for Pansy to forgive Millicent - whilst at the same time, it simultaneously hadn’t taken much at all, with Millicent being one of her oldest and best friends. Neville, of course, couldn’t say the same. 

 

“Millicent, I-”

 

“Wait!” Millicent cut Neville off, mid-sentence. “I want you to know I regretted what I said straight away, I would never have wanted to cause you - or Pans, any harm, and I mean it when I say I’m sorry. I really do.”

 

Millicent’s eyes were wide and frantic. Neville’s were the opposite. “I know you do.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Of course,” Neville replied, “these aren’t exactly normal times we’re living in. And Pansy told me how you helped Draco get me here. It’s okay, honestly.”

 

“Th-thank you, Neville.”

 

“No need,” Neville said warmly as he gave Pansy’s hand a further squeeze.  

 

The living room fell into silence, but a comfortable one. It took Theo, as was the usual, to break it. 

 

“By the way, Neville mate, this is Narcissa - Draco’s mum.”

 

Neville’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline as his head swivelled around to catch sight of the, until now, quiet extra somebody was sitting. “Oh, hello,” he said with a short incline of his head. 

 

“Neville Longbottom,” Narcissa replied, the name clearly recognisable to the older witch. She mimicked his action, her face unreadable. “It is nice to meet you.”

 

“Likewise,” Neville said. 

 

The others filled Pansy and Neville in on everything that had been said whilst she had been upstairs. According to Narcissa, Voldemort had become even more agitated than usual. 

 

“I’m just glad the heat is off me and Blaise a bit,” Theo relayed. 

 

“Don’t get complacent, Theodore, his attention is otherwise occupied, absolutely, but he’s, if possible, more dangerous than ever before. If you’re caught now, either of you,” she nodded to Theo and Blaise in turn, “I don’t think there will be the chance for you to even try and talk your way out of it. He’ll kill you on sight,” she added as though to emphasise her point. 

 

“What do you think will happen now?” Draco asked.

 

“In a way, I’m glad you’re away from there, Draco,” Narcissa’s hand grasped both her sons’, but in another, I do not relish the thought of him finding out you’re not there. Oh, it’s impossible isn’t it? I can’t tell you what I don’t know, but he keeps talking about that blasted castle like it’s the end of the Earth!”

 

Draco’s brow was furrowed. “Hogwarts?” 

 

“Mmm, he says the word  _ Hogwarts  _ more than any other. And although I do not know any plans of his, nor do I know what it is Potter and his friends are doing at present, if anything, but I’d bet the entirety of the Malfoy fortune that if something is going to,” she paused, gathering herself - though Pansy could still see the hysteria very much still present within Narcissa’s eyes, “happen, it will be at Hogwarts. For some reason it is his be all and end all.”

 

* * *

  
  


Narcissa retired back to the Manor shortly after She bid them goodbye, and good luck, with concern on her face and worry lines etched into the otherwise perfect skin of her face. “Be safe,” Pansy heard her final, whispered goodbye to Draco, as she prepared to exit the cottage. 

 

The departure of his mother had provided Draco with a new wave of disappointment, his inner conflict so entirely present upon his face it had, for the moment, entirely replaced his usual mask of nonchalance.

 

It was Neville, surprisingly, who spoke. “You okay, Draco?” 

 

Draco, having sank back into a nearby armchair, did not raise his head from its bowed position. “Not really, mate.”

 

Theo took the two steps it took for him to reach Draco’s side and placed his hand on his friend’s arm. “It’s alright, she’s safe man. You know she’s safe.”

 

At this, Draco’s face met the his hands. “She’s too good for all this,” he said.

 

The others offered a collective agreement. 

 

“Would it be terribly inappropriate for me to point out how impressive it is that your mum’s hair stays so perfect, even at a time like this, Draco?” Daphne noted, and in the split second it took for Draco to raise his head and face Daphne, Pansy felt a sudden worry Draco was going to explode. 

 

She needn’t have worried. “Do you know who else is too good for all this?” 

 

Daphne shook her head. 

 

Draco let out an unexpected laugh. “You, blondie.”

 

“Right back at you, babe.”

 

“I think we’re all too good for this, personally,” Theo piped up. “Especially me.” 

 

“How dare you!” Pansy shot Theo a look of mock offense. “I’m the queen bitch of Slytherin, didn’t you know?”

 

The exchange, it turned out, had been entirely what the group of runaways had needed. Secondarily however, according to Theo, to their need for a party. 

 

At the mention of the word, the group exchanged a number of confused looks between each other.  _ Could we?  _ Pansy thought to herself, wondering whether it was inappropriate somehow, for them to contemplate having fun.

 

Slytherins, though, were perhaps the most easily influenced into potentially-inappropriately-timed parties, and although his House may have differed, Neville was, much to Pansy’s surprise, very much in favour Theo’s suggestion. 

 

“Yes, Neville mate! Though probably best to avoid any breakdancing,” Theo offered with a wink. “Let’s get smashed!”

 

And get smashed, they did. 

 

At some point after arriving, Theo, Daphne and Blaise had - whilst disguised, stocked the cottage with ample food and drinks from a nearby Muggle store, and there was more than enough, the others soon realised, to have several parties and still have enough alcohol left over for several New Years and one or two weddings. 

 

They found a station on an old Muggle radio which was playing some  _ I Love Rock n’ Roll Top 30,  _ and cleared the main area of the living room of furniture, pushing all the seats further back, creating a makeshift dance floor which, despite her initial protests, Pansy found - after her third beer, herself, Daphne Millicent and Theo throwing their heads up and down in time to  _ Livin’ on a Prayer _ . Draco, by his own - rather annoying if you asked Pansy, admission absolutely did not dance and was sitting watching the dancers with an amused expression, and Blaise was having what looked to be an in depth - yet apparently hysterical conversation with Neville - who may have found himself able to make his way downstairs but was far from strong enough to dance. 

 

“Draco don’t be a loser!” Theo bellowed, “come dance with me buddy!” 

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “No, thank you, Theo.”

 

“The only one with permission to be a boring bastard is my man,” Theo enthusiastically pointed towards Neville, “Longbottom - and that’s because if he danced he’d probably fucking keel over, you” he moved his gesture towards Draco, “have no excuse - fucking get up here, you prick! And you,” this time Blaise was the object of Theo’s pointed bellowing, “no excuse Zabini, get up here!”

 

Pansy watched with amusement as Draco exchanged an expression that was entirely raised eyebrows with Blaise, and relented to Theo’s persistence. They gulped the remainder of their drinks and rose in unison as Theo roared, “YES!” and threw himself at both Draco and Blaise. 

 

Waiting until the song -  _ Here I Come Again,  _ had finished, Pansy made her way off the homemade dance floor, and flopped herself down next to Neville. 

 

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, perfectly raising one eyebrow.

 

“I thought you might have been lonely.”

 

Neville’s voice held an amusing slur. “I was a tiny bit, but I was enjoying watching you.”

 

“Perve.”

 

He chuckled at her reply. “Only when it comes to you.”

 

Pansy turned her head to face him, fighting her alcohol-induced urge to sit on top of him, and winked. 

 

She heard Neville audibly groan before leaning into her and whispering, “And I thought your dancing was sexy.”

 

She leaned forward, laughing, and simply pressed her lips to his in response. 

 

The broke apart after far longer than she had anticipated, caring not that her friends were barely a few metres away from the couch they were sitting on. 

  
She had missed kissing him almost as much as she’d missed him. And perhaps it had been her biggest fear, after Rabastan, that she’d somehow be too frightened to be intimate with Neville again. And in many ways she  _ was,  _ but - and it was a small grace she knew, Rabastan Lestrange may have broken a great many things in regards to Pansy’s spirit, but they way she felt when Neville’s lips moved in time with hers wasn’t one of them. 


	44. Too Young For This

A number of things surprised Pansy about, not just her friends, but also herself during their stay at the cottage. In the few short weeks it had been it had, in many ways, been almost - as strange as it was, perfect. Without the risk of the Carrows encroaching upon them and their business, and away from the prying eyes of the rest of the students, for the first time in a long time, Pansy and her friends, and Neville, were in a way entirely free. Having grown up and lived the majority of her life with a number of luxuries, Pansy was surprised at just how easily she settled into life in the cottage, which - whilst not nearly as ugly as the Head dorms had been, was far from a Manor.

 

 _Being on the run,_ Pansy mused, her back against Neville’s front, _isn’t actually all that bad._

 

Here she was able to forget, about the Carrows and her father and mother, about the inane and meaningless tirade of terror Voldemort and his followers were inflicting upon both the Wizarding and Muggle words, and, at least sometimes, about Rabastan - which she was thankful for considering her unconscious self was faring far less fortunate. Pansy woke in a cold sweat more nights than not, believing unwelcome and callous hands were reaching for her in the dark. She lied whenever one of her friends asked how she was, only Neville knowing how she sobbed against his chest, protected by a silencing charm and the way his arms felt cradling her in the small hours; the secret, broken part of her kept only by the one she loved and the stars that shone through the never closed curtains.

 

She felt his fingertips dance across the top of her arm. “You alright?”

 

Not replying straight away, Pansy pushed herself further into his chest. They were positioned on one of the couches, her between his slightly bent legs. One of his arms slung entirely around her and with his other hand he was flicking a galleon into the air.

 

“Yeah, you?”

 

Even though she was facing away from him, Pansy’s mind’s eye could see the frown lines she knew were covering his forehead. “Just hope everyone is okay.”

 

She wasn’t prepared to lie to him, just as she knew he wouldn’t to her. Pansy had absolutely no idea how the remainder of the students - a number of whom meant a great deal to Neville, were faring. “I know, babe.”

 

It was Neville’s biggest worry, and rightly so, Pansy knew. Of course he’d been planning to leave with Pansy and the others for the few weeks they’d spent planning the event, but she knew the guilt of even the thought had eaten at him, and though she knew he had entirely meant everything he had said to her, the act of leaving the castle would have been a difficult one for him. As it turned out, however, he hadn’t had to make the journey - not consciously anyway, and Pansy didn’t know if the fact he hadn’t actually left of his own accord made it easier for him to handle the guilt of it more or not.

 

She was glad though, even if he wasn’t, even if he regretted it - as much as she hoped he didn’t, that he was here. Not just for herself and her sanity, but the time they had at the cottage, without any Carrow or other looming Death Eater-shaped threats had been exactly what Neville’s body had needed to heal from the their heinous and one sided attack on him and Seamus.

 

From over to her left, Pansy became dimly aware of the door that seperated the living room and the kitchen area had opened, she paid it no mind however until the clearing of Draco’s throat brought her eyes flickering in his direction.

 

“I think we should all sit down,” Draco said, his eyes on Pansy, “we should probably discuss our next move.”

 

Neville answered before Pansy. “Yeah, alright.”

 

Pansy herself simply nodded and she and Neville disentangled themselves from each other and rose to standing and walked forwards towards Draco, behind whom there stood a large dining table, the only feasible location for such a _sit down._

 

It only took a few minutes for all the current residents of the cottage to congregate together at the table. Draco, standing at the head of the table and looking both exactly where he should be and somehow terribly out of place. He looked, to Pansy, simply too young to be ushering his misfitting group of friends to find their place in a war where they hadn’t asked to be a part of. Some had been dragged in, simply by association, to a place where the words Parkinson, Nott and Malfoy meant only one thing, and where Longbottom meant entirely another, where Zabini meant assumption and Greengrass meant the unknown, and Bulstrode now meant something it once hadn’t. For Pansy, Draco, Theo, Blaise and Millicent, their names meant expectation and loyalty to a cause none could stand, and Neville’s meant ugly memories of brutality and torture and now could very well mean certain death.

 

For the second time, Draco cleared his throat. “I think we need to make some decisions.”

 

Nobody answered, but Theo, Neville and Millicent all offered Draco nods of agreement.

 

“Alright, as oddly fun as this strange holiday is, how long can we realistically stay here for?”

 

Daphne, sitting directly opposite Pansy, leant forward. “Well, we rented this place for a year.”

 

“A- wait,” Draco’s frown of confusion met Pansy’s, “a year?”

 

Daphne shrugged. “There used to be a sign in the window saying ‘To Let’, we saw it by complete chance, and it was a good thing we did since you three were no shows. Blaise confunded the woman from the house,” Daphne nodded towards the window, “over there - she owns both, and she took the sign down and said she’d call _the agency -_ whatever _that_ means.”

 

On her right, Pansy felt Neville shuffle in his seat. “Are you even paying to live here?”

 

“Not...at present,” Blaise replied slowly, “but we’re going to reimburse her once one of us can get into Gringotts.”

 

“But,” all their attentions turned back towards Draco, “we can’t just stay here like sitting ducks, we need to do something _, anything_.”

 

When no one answered, Neville cleared his throat. “If your mum is right,” he said to Draco, “and something is going to happen at Hogwarts, I vote we wait for that.”

 

“And in the meantime?” Draco said, his nostrils flaring.

 

“We do what you and Pansy were doing anyway, and what I was making half the school do: we prepare, and when the time comes that we’re needed, we go.”

 

More silence greeted Neville’s words.

 

“Unless none of you would go back and fight, of course.” His words held no obvious bitterness, yet Pansy knew she’d be a fool to think it wasn’t there. Fighting, against Voldemort, was what Neville had been doing, indirectly, since September and Pansy knew, even if she begged him, him staying in the cottage with them away from Hogwarts was temporary and always had been. He may have left for her, but as much as he loved her she knew he wouldn’t stay away for her, not when it came to it. Not when it mattered.

 

And she loved him even more for that.

 

“I’ll be right there with you, Neville mate,” Theo replied, his voice steady and without its usual humorous tone.

 

Pansy squeezed Neville’s hand beneath the table. “Me too,” she offered him as much of a smile as she could.

 

Daphne and Millicent agreed also, the latter giving a determined nod as she spoke, as though to convince the others of her intent to stick by them this time. Blaise repeated the sentiment, his arm flug casually over the back of Daphne’s chair. “I’m in.”

 

Draco examined his group of friends one by one. “The second any of us - not you Longbottom, of course, it’s game over. You’re a target.”

 

“Pretty sure Theo and I are already targets,” Blaise replied.

 

Draco blinked. “Well yes, I suppose that is true, but Pansy, Millicent, your parents...”

 

“Fuck my parents!” Pansy exclaimed, and this time it was Neville who squeezed her hand.

 

“Fair enough, Mill?”

 

Pansy watched Millicent swallow as the entirety of the group turned their attention towards her. “I’m with you,” she said with a sigh. “Of course I would want more than anything for them to not fight f-for him, but...I won’t. I’m with you,” she repeated, her voice stronger. Pansy watched Theo stroke her arm affectionately, before turned his face towards Draco’s.

 

“That just leaves you mate.”

 

Draco took a few long, steady breaths. “I won’t pretend my reasons for, well anything, are as noble as Longbottom’s, or as defiant as Pansy’s, or yours,” he spoke primarily to Theo, “I want him fucked up because that keeps him and all his fuckwit Death Eaters away from my mother. I want him gone so she can be safe, and have the happiness she’s barely ever had but fucking deserves. She’s who I’m fighting for, and all of you, of course, but not the safety of the Wizarding World, or anything so moral. And whatever I have to do to achieve that, I’ll do.”

 

Pansy’s mouth felt all of a sudden very dry. “You can’t be seen to not be on his side.” It was a truth she’d known for months, and yet saying it aloud somehow made it mean something different, something unavoidable.

 

“No, I cannot.”

 

“What does that mean?” Daphne asked.

 

“It means,” Draco’s eyes met the surface of the table, “that I’m still playing this fucked up role, and if he summons me, I’ll go. Because if I don’t go, I don’t know what he’ll do to my mother.” he still didn’t meet any of their eyes. “He told me at Christmas there might come a time he expects me to leave Hogwarts, if he _needs me,_ and if that happens, I’ll have to go.”

 

“Sometimes I forget you’re a fully fledged Death Eater,” Blaise stated, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

 

“I wish I could say the same,” Draco replied. “What I’m trying to say though, is that if it comes to that, and I go, whatever you see, whatever I’m doing, I’m still with you all. And I need you all to know that.”

 

* * *

 

Pansy and Neville retreated to bed earlier than usual that night, and they weren’t the only ones. The other two couples, the earlier conversation resting just as heavily upon them as it was on Pansy and Neville, also made their way upstairs early that evening. Only Draco remained downstairs, alone with his whisky and his thoughts.

 

Not for the first time, Pansy wished Draco had someone. It couldn’t be easy, she knew, regardless of the situation, to be yourself living solely with three couples. Pansy didn’t know who was right for Draco, for as much as she loved him, his demeanor, not without reason, was often moody and forlorn, not to mention his still very problematic drinking habits, which earned anyone who dared to mention them either a sarcastic snap in response, or silence. Hiding, or throwing away Draco’s alcohol simply meant Draco grumpily walking to the nearby village and retrieving more, and perhaps offering an alternative activity may have worked in another life, but the truth was except for practising their duelling, occlumency and advanced spells, other than just _being,_ there just wasn’t much else to do. There were only so many riverside walks one could enjoy, and Draco didn’t enjoy them at all.

 

“Suits you, that,” Neville said with a chuckle.

 

“You tell anyone and I shan’t be responsible for my actions.”

 

Neville held his hands up in mock defeat, a look of feigned innocence crossing his handsome features. “As if I would dare, although-”

 

“Don’t you dare give me _although_!”

 

“I just feel the world ought to know how sexy Pansy Parkinson looks in Gryffindor colours.”

 

Pansy rolled her eyes as she positioned herself under the covers, waiting, rather impatiently, for Neville to take his usual position beside her, in the same way he always did with his one arm wrapped around her as she listened to the gentle _thump thump_ of his heartbeat through his chest.

 

“Only you will _ever_ know that,” she replied as he settled himself next to her.

 

She felt his fingertips graze first over her shoulder and then up over her jaw before he pulled her face gently upwards and met her lips with his. “I’m very glad I do,” he whispered, and kissed her again. Clementine, his corn snake, was weaving happily through the fingers on his other hand.

 

“We’re too young for this,” Neville said.

 

“Hmm?” Pansy’s focus had been on the stars through the window.

 

“War. Preparing ourselves to fight in a war. It’s ridiculous.”

 

“Oh,” she absentmindedly drew patterns of swirls and curves on his bare chest, “yeah, I suppose.”

 

“I never thought I’d face this, my parents, well… they fought so that I wouldn’t have to face this, so no one else would have to.”

 

Pansy gently kissed Neville’s chest. “They’re brave as hell, you know.”

 

“Yeah, they are.”

 

“So’s their son.”

 

He didn’t reply, instead Pansy felt his fingers rhythmically massage the back of her head.

 

“Do you ever,” Pansy asked, realising she never had before, “think about it all being over?”  


“If You-Know-Who was gone again?”

 

“Yeah, what you would do.”

 

“Not for a while,” Neville said. “Do you?”

 

“Sometimes,” she admitted.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, I...it’s one of the things I do when I’m trying to go to sleep”, she wondered briefly whether to add, _when I’m trying to forget Rabastan,_ but decided against it having made a promise to herself a while ago to not do her utmost to make sure Rabastan Lestrange wasn’t mentioned close to a time when Neville’s parents were. It was the smallest mark of respect she could offer, but Pansy felt better for adhering to it.

 

“Tell me.”

 

“Okay,” Pansy began, “often I wonder what if I’d ever go back to my parents’ house, whether everyone will hate me as much as I think they will - which is even more than they do now, if it’ll ever be _okay_ for me and you to be together _out there,_ if I could stomach another year at Hogwarts if it wasn’t run by those two sadists, and I think I want to come back here one day to look at the stars again, oh and if you’ll decide you want to be with Lovegood or someone, instead of me, and fuck off, you prick,” she added jokingly.

 

“You do know Luna is happy with Ginny, don’t you?”

 

“That’s hardly the-”

 

“I mean, of all the people you could be worried about, she’s a strange choice.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Neville laughed softly. “I can’t help you with whether you should ever go back to your parents’ house, only that if you did you wouldn’t have to go alone-”

 

“My mother would _love_ that.”

 

“As for me and you, of course we can come back here and see the stars, and _of course_ it’ll be okay for us to be together _out there,_ why wouldn’t it?”

 

“In case you weren’t aware, I’m not very well liked babe, not by your friends anyway.”

 

“Ginny likes you.”

 

“Does she heck.”

 

“She does, actually, she told me. She and Luna both do, and in fact, it’s probably more likely that you’ll decide you want to be with Luna, and leave _me,_ than the other way around.”

 

Pansy snorted. “Now there’s a thought.”

 

“And,” said Neville, continuing, “as far as another year at Hogwarts goes, obviously it’s up to you, but I won’t be going back.”

 

“No?” Pansy asked, surprised.

 

“After having to go through those constant cruciatus curses by Alecto, no. If I’m honest it’s one of the reasons I felt able to leave, after being with you, of course.”

 

“That’s understandable.”

 

“She must have known,” Neville’s tone was heavy, “she must have known it was what my parents were put through over and over again, and she must have known I knew that. Who does that?”

 

Pansy had often wondered the same thing. “Evil people.”

 

“The only thing that kept me going during those _lessons,_ if you can call them that, was you throwing up those blocks, do you know that?”

 

“I said a silent _Fuck you,_ every time I did,” Pansy relayed, suddenly aware that tears had begun to form in her eyes.

 

Sitting up, Pansy surveyed Neville. His face, normally so strong with his firm jaw and determined expression he wore more often than not, looked entirely different that night. A part of him, Pansy knew deep inside, was utterly broken and had been since he was a one year old infant, and thanks to Alecto Carrow, that broken part had increased, perhaps more than Pansy had realised. And that night, his brokenness had replaced not his strength, but his secure resolve.

 

“I’m sorry,” Pansy said, trying and very much failing not to cry harder.

 

Neville’s voice was rife with concern. “What? For what?”

 

“I’m just sorry, for everything you’ve gone through, and for everything _she,”_ Pansy laced the word with the poison she wished she could actually feed to Alecto, “put you through. I’m just… sorry,” she repeated.

 

From somewhere deep in her subconscious, Pansy heard her mother, and she swallowed as the words _a face with tears is not a pretty one,_ echoed over and over in her mind, as they always did when she allowed herself to cry in front of him.

 

He lifted the hand that wasn’t still firmly placed in her hair, to her cheek, she watched his eyes roam over her face. “I love you so much.”

 

She didn’t reply instantly, instead she kissed him, hard, breaking away only to say she loved him too, snaking her arms around his neck, and feeling his, in turn, on her waist as she pressed her lips, and her torso, and then waist, into his.

 

“A-are you sure?” Neville gasped the question as Pansy trailed a line of kisses over his jaw, and down the side of his neck.

 

Perhaps it was the stark reminder they’d had that day of the reality of their position, or perhaps she’d simply had enough time to heal the part of her she needed, in order to give herself to him intimately again. Or perhaps it was the raw and very real way in which he had given himself to her, in a way unlike any other, in a way that meant he was just as, if not more so, broken than she was. Once upon a time her mother had insisted that showing a man your weakness’ was the thing that would make Pansy week, so perhaps it was the knowledge in how wrong her mother had been, about many things but especially that. Because Pansy knew that it didn’t make her weak, it somehow made her, _them,_ stronger, just as it did when Neville did the same, because in a way that meant he needed her just as much as she knew she absolutely needed him.

 

“Yes,” she mumbled, her lips now against his chest. “Yes, I’m sure.”


	45. Moo

At the time, the idea of solely using the time at the cottage - however long that may be, to prepare themselves, felt enough. And they did. Every one of their duelling and spellwork was exemplary. 

 

It wasn’t enough however, not now. 

 

Neville, after having apparently done so with a large majority of Hogwarts during the first half of the year, had taken on the role of something of a mentor to them, and after they had exhausted the use of the inside of the cottage one too many times, they had extended their practise area, making use of the cottage’s garden and a number of protective wards and Muggle repelling charms. 

 

Pansy, who was supposed to be focussing entirely on blocking Theo’s oncoming barrage of attacks, but was instead trying to figure out how exactly she’d explain to a past version of herself that she now couldn’t imaging a sexier sight than Neville Longbottom wearing a navy blue cardigan, felt it too, the complete and utter - even with the garden, cabin fever. 

 

It had been, in fact, now over two months and was well into March, since the sit down at the dining table, and with the exception of a few random visits from Narcissa, not much had occurred. The following week, however, would see Draco depart the cottage in an effort to return to Hogsmeade and catch the Hogwarts Express, as the Easter holidays would start, and Draco would most certainly be expected at Malfoy Manor. 

 

After Narcissa’s visit, it had been decided that Draco, who could hopefully liaise with Ginny, was to return to Hogwarts after the Easter holidays, alone. Narcissa, having mentioned that Voldemort was only getting, if possible, more irate, and with what was obviously a heavy heart, she had expressed she didn’t believe the Wizarding World had long to wait until it would know its fate. 

 

The fate in question of course rested in either Voldemort or three teenagers. The truth of which was a frightening one.

 

Having had enough of not just her match against Theo, but a number of things, Pansy casually threw up red sparks - the agreed signal for halting any duelling, and came out from behind the bench she had been knelt behind. Hungry and aching from crouching in the same position for the better part of an hour, Pansy felt decidedly grumpy as she began to walk towards the back door. 

 

Theo, however, had other ideas, and the pain from his stinging hex was enough for her to reel around, suddenly energised, and hit Theo square in the chest with her own hex. 

 

Theo, who in Pansy’s opinion, acted incredibly dramatically, fell to his knees clutching his chest. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” he roared. 

 

His retort was out of character, and even in her less than pleasant mood, Pansy knew their claustrophobic living situation was playing its own role in his reaction. 

 

“Err, you hit me first,  _ after  _ I shot up the sparks, remember?”

 

“GENTLY!” 

 

Pansy shrugged, knowing it would annoy him more. 

 

“YOU FULL ON HEXED ME IN THE CHEST PANSY!”

 

She purposefully kept her voice level, though the desire to shout back at Theo was rising. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

 

“THAT’S NOT THE FUCKING  _ POINT  _ AND YOU KNOW IT!”

 

_ Oh, shut up Theo! _

 

Taking a breath, Pansy was deciding on which direction her response would take, when Theo made the decision for her.

 

“Fucking bitch,” he muttered not quite quiet enough for her to miss it.

 

It took only a second for Pansy’s wand to rise, pointing, once again, at Theo’s chest. “FUCK YOU, YOU ARSEHOLE!”

 

Although she hadn’t realised, being so intent on staring daggers into Theo, Neville had run out of the back door and was suddenly occupying the space that seperated Pansy and Theo.  

 

“Woah!” Nevilled called, throwing both hands in the air, one palm pointed at Pansy, and the other at Theo. 

 

Millicent appeared just behind Neville, but Pansy’s eyes didn’t leave Theo’s. His iris’ were a similar green to her own, and they had always joked about the fact their eyes matched. Swallowing, Pansy watched Theo, waiting for him his response to her insult. 

 

“Oh yeah,” he narrowed his eyes, “ _ I’m  _ the arsehole, really Pansy?”

 

“What is going on?!” Neville demanded. 

 

“THEO BEING A PRICK IS WHAT IS GOING ON!” 

 

_ Absolutely do not apologise for that later Pansy _

 

“YOU HIT ME IN THE CHEST YOU CRAZY BITCH!”

 

“AFTER YOU HIT ME IN THE ARM!”

 

“AS A JOKE!”

 

_ Like fuck that was a joke you giant balloon _

 

Neville turned his face to look at both Pansy and Theo in turn, and Pansy couldn’t help but smirk.  _ He’s my boyfriend arsehole, he’s going to be on my side.  _ Neville’s next words, however, proved to be exactly the opposite.

 

“You hit him  _ in the chest?”  _

 

_ Fucking excuse me? _

 

She was out of order, Pansy knew that, and so did Theo, Neville and Millicent. But in her mind that was neither here nor there. Especially since Theo was now pulling off a smirk Draco would have been proud of.

 

“He hit me  _ after  _ I sent up sparks!”

 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Theo.” Millicent’s words broke the silence from what felt like nowhere. 

 

The smirk vanished from Theo’s face and settled, instead, on Pansy’s. 

 

“Thanks, Mills.”

 

Theo rounded on his girlfriend. “You WHAT?!” 

 

“Well, it’s not hard to understand that when someone insinuates they’re done _ ,  _ they’re  _ done _ , is it?” 

 

_ Well this is bigger than Theo and I’s fight _

 

“Really? Fucking REALLY?! You’re doing this here? Now?”

 

“I’m not  _ doing  _ anything,” Millicent retorted.  _ I mean you kind of are to be fair,  _ Pansy thought, now rather amused. “But she put up the sparks, that means stop, you can’t blame her for being mad you didn’t stick to that. We were all in agreement over what the sparks meant.”

 

The words, they all knew - even without context, had very little to do with the sparks. Or so Pansy  _ thought  _ they all knew, until Neville - entirely out of place in Pansy’s opinion, argued, “That doesn’t mean we can just go hexing each other in the chest, that can be dangerous! Pansy,” he turned to face her, his voice steady, “you can’t do that!”

 

Pansy didn’t reply, instead she simply glared at Neville before turning and striding towards the house. Just behind her, she heard what she assumed was Millicent’s footsteps. 

 

“Mills?” Pansy asked, as she took one, still glaring, glance back towards Neville, caring not that she was entirely in the wrong, and very little that she despised the fact that him standing up against her had, more than anything else, turned her on. She didn’t need to let him know that, Pansy reasoned.  _ Not yet, anyway.  _

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can we get drunk?”

 

“Please!”

 

* * *

  
  


They located a bemused looking Daphne, and raided the drinks cupboard before retreating to Millicent and Theo’s room. Their window, Pansy noticed, looked out over the front of the cottage and a few Muggles could be seen going about their daily business. Even for Scotland they were wrapped up, layers of thick boots and thicker coats shielded them as much as possible from the ever present chill in the air. The sky above was still stuck, dark and wintery, with no sign of spring whatsoever. 

 

“They look miserable,” Daphne noted beside Pansy.

 

“They’re not the only ones,” Pansy muttered darkly, turning back around and reaching for the bottle Millicent was holding out. Glasses, they had decided, were for the weak. 

 

Daphne perched herself on the deep window sill. “Okay, what’s going on?” 

 

Relaying the occurrence between her and Theo, and then between Millicent and Theo, Pansy couldn’t quite bring herself to meet Daphne’s eyes. 

 

“And,” Daphne’s words were slow, as though chosen carefully, “you think you were in the right, with Theo and-”

 

“Of course I don’t!” Pansy snapped. “But I’m hardly going to tell them that, am I?”

 

Millicent snorted. “I think you were in the right.”

 

Daphne looked momentarily horrified. “You don’t mean that, Mills.”

 

“You didn’t see the way she was outside,” Pansy replied darkly. “I think she does.”

 

It took Millicent a few long moments and several gulps of wine before she spoke. “I’m sick of him.”

 

Her words were met with silence. 

 

“Well alright,” Millicent reasoned, “I’m not sick of him...entirely. I’m sick of spending every waking moment with him in this stupid place.”

 

Nodding, Pansy readied herself to agree entirely, but it was Daphne who spoke first. “Oh,  _ Merlin,  _ I know  _ exactly  _ what you mean!”

 

Millicent looked relieved. “You feel it too?” 

 

“Babe, we’ve essentially been living together since  _ October,  _ that’s when we started sleeping in the same bed every night. Of  _ course  _ I feel it too. And,” it seemed Daphne had needed the outlet, “he doesn’t  _ talk.  _ I mean, he talks of course, but never about very much and for very long. I’m a talker!”

 

“Oh, we know,” Millicent said much to Pansy’s amusement.

 

“I miss night time talks,” Daphne finished sadly “I know we all talk a lot, in the living room and stuff, but I miss the nights where you talk all night, like the three of us used to have.”

 

“I’ll swap you,” Millicent replied, “Theo doesn’t shut up.”

 

“I’m so jealous!” 

 

“Don’t be - it’s awful, I’d give anything for Blaise’s brooding. If I don’t want to talk, there’s something wrong, if I don’t want to have sex, there’s something wrong. If I don’t want to cuddle, there’s something wrong. Sometimes I just don’t want to!”

 

What happened in the garden suddenly made a lot more sense. 

 

“It’s not like you to stay quiet Pans,” Millicent said, “please tell me Neville isn’t as perfect as he seems?”

 

Pansy sighed. In many ways, he was. But… “Maybe  _ that  _ is sort of the problem. He’s  _ too  _ perfect. He’s too fucking  _ good! _ ”

 

“There it is,” Millicent replied happily, “let it out babe!”

 

“Do you know,” Pansy began, “he sees the good in just about everyone...it’s exhausting, and he’s everyone’s best friend. Every time Draco is a dick to him, Neville makes excuses for him. Every time I’m a bitch, he makes excuses for me. Don’t make excuses for me! Let me be an unapologetic cow occasionally!”

 

It was such a non-problem, Pansy knew, as were the others, but it felt good to share them. 

 

“That is  _ exactly  _ it!” Millicent cried, suddenly excited. “I want to be an unapologetic cow too!” 

 

Daphne cleared her throat and held her bottle out in front of her in a toast. “Ladies,” she spoke with such a serious tone it was hard for Pansy to not burst out laughing. “Moo!”

 

“MOO!” Pansy and Millicent cried in unison. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

The afternoon continued into the evening, and the girls were accompanied, not just with each other, but with tears and alcohol. 

 

“It’s okay, they’ll be okay, Daph. Your mum is smart as hell.”

 

“You and I both know there’s no guarantee that’s enough,” Daphne was wailing by this point. “I shouldn’t have left her, any of them. What if Astoria-Pans what if I never see my little sister again?”

 

“You  _ will  _ see her again,” Millicent said, though the worried glance she shared with Pansy showed neither knew whether they could believe it. 

 

Daphne’s reply was a further, wordless wail against Pansy’s shoulder. 

 

Perhaps she ought to have offered further encouraging words, and she had fully intended to do so, until she opened her mouth. The tears that began to fall beat her sob by only a second. Looking over at Millicent, Pansy noticed in both surprise and not that now all three of them were crying. 

 

“We’re not meant for this,” Millicent gasped. “We’re only fucking seventeen and we’re hiding from a madman who wants to either kill us, or us to kill for him, in the middle of a war!” 

 

Their now empty bottles of drink were scattered in various points throughout the room and they themselves were all gathered together atop Millicent and Theo’s bed. 

  
“I love you both,” Daphne began, her voice strained from crying, “so, so much.” At her own words, Daphne threw her free arm upwards, towards Millicent, and beckoned for her to join she and Pansy’s hug, and before long the three, highly intoxicated but justifiably vulnerable friends were huddled together.

 

Without warning, and with a soft flump, the trio lopped over sideways, and landed, still hugging, on the duvet. Usually, they would have laughed such an occurrence off. 

 

Instead, they held each other.

  
  


* * *

 

 

_ “Oh my God,  _ why _ though?! We haven’t done anything, to anyone!” _

 

_ Pansy nodded, glancing between both Daphne and Millicent. They had situated themselves, as was their custom now, on Daphne’s bed, a tradition that had started only three weeks prior after their very first week as Slytherin students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “The Gryffindors are the  _ worst!” 

 

_ “The Hufflepuffs are okay,” Daphne said fairly, though Pansy was barely listening.  _

 

_ “I will  _ never  _ like a Gryffindor!” _

 

_ Millicent wrinkled her nose. “Imagine if a Gryffindor asks you to be his boyfriend,” she said with a soft laugh. _

 

_ “Ugh! I’d hex him!” _

 

_ “At least we have each other,” Daphne offered. “Best friends.” _

 

_ “Forever,” Pansy and Millicent stated, as one.  _

  
  


* * *

 

 

Daphne’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Guys?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Best friends?”

 

Pansy and Millicent answered in unison. “Forever.”

  
  



	46. Always Remember Us This Way

It took more of her resolve than she cared to admit for Pansy to walk into the bedroom she and Neville shared the following morning. She knew what it would mean, and that was her admitting to Neville - and most likely Theo as well, that she had been in the wrong the previous day.    
  
Admitting she was in the wrong was not something Pansy particularly relished. 

 

Neither, however, was the sight, or smell, of what greeted her on the other side of the bedroom door. 

 

Littered around the small room was an abundance of empty beer cans and various types of food packaging, including a large pizza box balancing vicariously on the nearby vanity. Wrinkling her nose, mostly at the - clearly spilled at some point - strong scent of beer in the air, Pansy nudged a corner of the pizza box open with one finger. 

 

Taking one of the few remaining slices of now cold pizza, Pansy turned her attention to the bed, her eyebrows shooting skywards at what greeted her. Evidently, Neville, Theo and from the one foot she could see poking out from the floor behind the bed, Blaise, had clearly enjoyed a similar night to the one Pansy, Daphne and Millicent had. 

 

Both Theo and Neville were lying, mostly spread-eagle, atop the bed, both their mouths wide open and - Pansy snorted, a snore that would have been loud for a bear was echoing rhythmically from Theo. 

 

Leaning her behind against the edge of the dressing table, Pansy crossed one ankle over the other and nibbled at the slice of pizza, observing the boys and deliberating on her next move when the clearing of a throat form the direction of the door demanded her attention. 

 

“Pans?”

 

Pansy studied him, his whiter than white blond head and somehow paler still face. Frowning, Pansy, after casting one last glance at the bed and its occupants, crossed the room. 

 

“Hey, you alright?”

 

Draco’s eyes were bloodshot and ringed with purple and Pansy realised with something that lurched in her chest that he looked possibly worse than she had ever seen him. 

 

He didn’t directly answer her question, though the answer - given his appearance, seemed startlingly obvious. “Do you fancy a walk?”

 

“Yeah, alright. Give me five minutes to get dressed.”

 

“I’ll be downstairs,” Draco replied. “Thanks, Pansy.”

 

She shot him the faintest of smiles. “See you in a minute.”

 

* * *

 

At first they walked in silence, the sounds of the river beside them providing a backing track of sorts. After around twenty minutes and around half a mile, Draco finally spoke. 

 

“I’m scared, Pans.”

 

She didn’t have to ask what of. 

 

“Me too.”

 

They utilised a nearby log as a makeshift bench, and Pansy watched - though barely saw, the fast flowing water. 

 

“If, for whatever reason, I  _ don’t  _ see you,” Pansy swallowed as she realised he was fighting with whether to say the word  _ again,  _ “I don’t want you to remember me this way.”

 

His words were all it took to break her, and were she in any other frame of mind she’d have thanked him for the silencing charm she heard him mutter around them - not that there was anyone, that she knew of anyway, nearby. Her sobs seemed louder somehow when not contained to one room, they ricocheted off nearby trees and echoed from the steady current of the river. 

 

He graciously waited until she had somewhat calmed. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Pansy snivelled as she felt his arm around her shoulders. “This is your breakdown, I’m being very selfish.”

 

He let out the smallest of snorts. “You are a bit.”

 

Nuding him softly in the ribs, Pansy sniffed as she tried to compose herself. “Carry on.”

 

“I’m-” Draco’s voice cracked. “I’m broken, Pansy. Utterly fucking broken.”

  
  


All at once, a hundred images flashed past her mind’s eye. Draco drinking whisky until he couldn’t see; Draco’s stony expression after casting the Imperius charm on the Carrows; an even stonier one when, the year before, he had cast it upon Madam Rosmerta from the Three Broomsticks; Draco holding her after Rabastan’s attack. Draco raving after Granger punched him; gloating after Potter punched him and ended up banned from Quidditch; smiling the specific half-smile only Pansy could identify as true happiness whenever he flew for Slytherin. The time he vomited half-way through telling her about the first time he and Theo got really drunk; the time he and Pansy vomited together after the first time he got her really drunk. The time he was truly and utterly bested by a pack of exploding snap and the time they snuck out of the castle that Saturday night and stayed out by the lake all night and the time they vowed to never let the failings of a romance between them change any part of how much they meant to each other. Times they’d yelled, times they’d laughed and every time she had to pick up all the pieces of him that fell apart on a weekly basis during the previous year. 

 

She’d held him throughout that year, just as he had held her, and pulled her and got her through this one. Neville had been, very much so, her sun, he had been a beacon lighting her a path through her darkness. But Draco,  _ her  _ Draco, had been, just as he  _ always _ had been, her stars. 

 

So often it felt, to Pansy, that the whole of Hogwarts thought they knew Draco. Pansy knew that it was only she who truly did. 

 

“Me too,” Pansy replied.

 

“I’m not going back,” Draco admitted the words Pansy already knew aloud, “to the house I mean. I can’t face it.”

 

Nodding, Pansy felt further tears slid down her cheeks as his arm leave her shoulders, and his hand grasp hers. Nothing she said, as much as she wanted to, would make him not go back to Hogwarts and return to the Manor for the Easter holidays. “I guessed as much.”

  
  


Pansy couldn’t remember a time she had wanted to let go of him less.

 

He drew away from her, just enough to grasp both her shoulders. The grey stormy skies that surrounded his pupils bored into her own eyes. “All I wanted was to get you to safety, to get you out.”

 

“I know,” Pansy said with a sniff, “and you did.”

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you enough.”

 

“You did.”

 

“No, I didn’t. And I’m sorry.”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

 

He didn’t believe her, that much was plain to see, but he clearly saw little advantage in arguing. Instead, his reply was simple; “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but look after Longbottom.”

 

She half cried, half laughed into his chest. “I will.”

 

“Look after all of them for me.”

 

“I’ll try.”

 

“And don’t worry about me.”

 

“What on Earth gave you the impression I would be worried about you, Draco Malfoy?” she replied, crying tears she couldn’t have stopped if she’d tried against his chest. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

_ I’m broken, Pansy. Utterly fucking broken. _

 

Her eyes hadn’t left the point he’d apparated away from, and she could still feel the touch of his hands in hers. There were a thousand risks, not just with Draco slipping back into the school he hadn’t attended in the past three months - relying entirely on the majority of students wanting to be nowhere near him, and the fact that the two Death Eaters in charge were instructed, by Draco’s own curse, to act as though everything was normal.  That hopefully Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid and caught up in themselves to understand his absence was something they really ought to report Voldemort’s way, and Severus Snape hopefully not deciding to actually act like something of the headmaster he was supposed to be. 

 

_ Merlin _ , Pansy caught her breath,  _ it was risky. So, so risky _ . And there was nothing Pansy could do to make it less so.

 

Pansy had never felt more broken.

 

Broken, perhaps they both were, perhaps they always had been. And despite his words, despite his spoken request that she didn’t remember him that way, Pansy knew she would go against his wishes. This way, as imperfect and vulnerable and just as messed up as the world it was, was the way she  _ wanted _ to remember them. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

She didn’t know how long she remained there. By the river, simply  _ being,  _ even when her tears had long since disappeared, leaving a hollow emptiness of nothing in their place, or perhaps in Draco’s place, she still didn’t move from the spot she’d said goodbye to him. 

 

Her indication of how long it  _ might  _ have been, as in a pretty large amount of time, came in the form of her name, shouted, by a not too far away Neville. 

 

“PANSY?! PANSY! ARE YOU OUT HERE?!”

 

For the first time since September, Pansy found herself  _ not _ wanting to see Neville Longbottom. 

 

Because seeing Neville meant,  _ truly  _ meant, in Pansy’s mind anyway, that Draco had really gone - and Pansy knew he wasn’t coming back. Not here, anyway. 

 

And Pansy wasn’t ready for Draco to really be gone.

 

His absence already felt like a kick to the gut and a stab in the heart. Draco wasn’t just gone, but his fate was now consumed by uncertainty, and even more danger than ever before. And the reality that none of them could change that weighed on her heavier than almost anything else. 

 

“PANSY?! DRACO?!”

 

Neville’s shout was louder now, and Pansy stood up as she turned to face the direction of Neville’s voice. and hugged her arms around herself, wishing she could still put the apology she knew she owed Theo at the top of her problems for the morning. 

 

“Ne-Neville?”

 

He appeared around the nearby bend only a second or two after she had spoken his name. 

 

His face, rife with concern, altogether softened as he surveyed her. He didn’t speak until he was in front of her and his arms were wrapping around her shoulders. 

 

“He’s gone, hasn’t he?”

 

Pansy couldn’t find it within herself to speak a response, instead she nodded against his chest. 

 

“He’ll be okay.”

 

“I-I’m not so sure.”

 

He kissed the top of her head and held her tighter, but didn’t argue her words. 

 

“I don’t know for sure,” Pansy swallowed, entirely unsure whether saying her greatest fear out loud changed anything. It definitely made it entirely more real, that much she was sure of, “if I’ll ever see him again.”

  
  


Despite knowing it was her duty, if nothing else, to inform the others of Draco’s departure, Pansy did so with a heavy heart. 

 

Her news was met with a stunned silence that lingered in the air so thick Pansy was certain it was something she could have reached for and touched. 

 

It was Theo who spoke first. “He’s really gone?” 

 

Pansy nodded her head, not quite meeting Theo’s eyes. “I think it was easier for him this way.”

 

Daphne was wearing the same expression Pansy would expect a deer to make when faced with a particularly bright Lumos, her large blue eyes wide and fearful. “What if...what if we never see him again…”

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

* * *

  
  


She found apologising to Theo for the previous day surprisingly easy, catching him once they had decided to have some much-needed lunch, despite noone being particularly hungry. 

 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Theo replied, unknowingly mimicking Pansy’s own words from earlier in the day. 

 

“Yeah, I do. I hexed you in the chest.” 

 

He pulled her into a tight hug. “Love you, Pans.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

“I said I’d go to the village with Blaise,” Theo said, “we need more firewood, do you want to come, or…?”

 

Pansy shook her head. “No thanks.”

 

He gave her a small nod and gave Neville - who had only just appeared, a manly pat on the shoulder as he walked past. 

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey,” she replied softly, grateful for the way he pulled her against him, and for the way he, once again, encased her with his arms. 

 

“You okay?”

 

Pansy shook her head. “No, I don’t think I am.”

 

“Want to go to bed?”

 

“I’m not sure I’m really in the mood-”

 

“Not for  _ that _ !”

 

“Oh,” Pansy replied, hating herself for being the tiniest bit disappointed. “To be honest I could probably use the stress relief.” She wasn’t sure whether she was joking or not.

 

Neville released her from the hug, took her hand in his own and led her from the kitchen. “Well, I mean, I’m hardly opposed, but it seems an insensitive offer.”

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take them long to arrive in the bedroom, and Pansy was pleased to see that Neville had, at least, tidied away the remains of his impromptu boy’s night. Winky was currently making the bed. 

 

“How is Miss?”

 

“Shit, Winky, how are you?”

 

“Winky didn’t want him to go, no she didn’t. Tried to talk him out of it last night, oh yes she did. But would he listen?”

 

Once upon a time it would have been a surprise to Pansy to hear Draco had confided in a House Elf before any other. 

 

Though, she supposed, once upon a time many things would have surprised her that didn’t now. 

 

“He isn’t the biggest fan of listening to others,” Pansy remarked sadly. 

  
“That he isn’t, Miss Pansy.” Winky’s voice was full of sorrow. “That he isn’t. Winky will clean the downstairs now, oh yes she will.”

 

“You don’t have to, Winky,” Pansy offered, feeling obliged, “if you want to sack the rest of the day off that’d be fine.”

 

Winky bowed, no trace of her trademark sass present. “Winky is happier to serve, Miss Pansy.”

 

Both Pansy and Neville watched the small elf leave the room, the door closing softly behind her. 

 

“Did Daphne and Mills go with the boys?” Pansy asked as she busied herself removing her boots.

 

Neville followed suit. “I think they were all planning on heading down, yeah.” 

 

“Oh, that’s good then.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Pansy quickly deposited her jeans onto the floor and climbed under the covers, a myriad of too many emotions and feelings swimming in her mind.

 

“I want you to fuck me so hard I forget how sad and scared and helpless I feel.”

 

Neville’s eyebrows rose but he didn’t speak. Instead, his eyes refusing to leave Pansy’s, he reached to the bottom of his shirt. In one swift movement he lifted the garment, discarding it easily on the floor. 

 

A few steps was all it took for him to close the gap that had been between Neville and where Pansy was in the bed, and his lips met hers in the whirlwind that was his fire and her ice. 

 

“I love you,” Neville gasped between kisses, his lips trailing down her neck, and - once her top was pulled over her head, down over her shoulders. 

 

Pansy, her nails digging, possibly painfully, into the sides of Neville’s neck, gasped as his kisses began to involve small bites and his own fingertips gripped her just as tight as she did he. 

 

“Always,” she began, her words struggling to even begin, ” she said, in a stark contradiction to what Draco had said to her earlier, “remember us this way.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

It was several hours later when Pansy and Neville emerged from their bedroom, hand in hand, and headed downstairs. At some point the others had returned and were seated in their usual spots within the living room. Draco’s chair was, of course, empty - so incredibly empty. In the same way a silence can deafen you, its emptiness felt somehow overpowering. 

 

“Well,” Theo began, “look who it is.”

 

Neither Pansy nor Neville replied as they took their usual position at the end of one of the couches, at their silence Theo continued his tirade. 

 

“ _ Now, you never know when it’ll come in handy, even in a fight,”  _ Theo seemed to be imitating Neville for some unknown reason. Pansy narrowed her eyes, sincerely hoping Theo made any kind of point. “ _ They’re useful to practise whenever you can,”  _ he continued, his arms flailing as he accentuated his words, “ _ SILENCING CHARMS!”  _

 

_ Oh _

 

Theo’s issue became embarrassingly clear.

 

“Really bloody useful, that’s what you,” a scowling Theo jabbed an index finger in Neville’s general direction, “told us. Practise them  _ whenever  _ you can, you said.”

 

Pansy could practically  _ feel  _ the heat emanating from Neville’s cheeks. 

 

“I did say that,” Neville said, his voice low and steady. Pansy, on the other hand, was having a hard time - especially considering she could see Daphne practically stuffing her entire fist in her mouth to quell her laughter, keeping a straight face.

 

“Hallelujah!” Theo cried, “he remembers!” 

 

“We-uh, we’re sorry,” Neville offered feebly. 

 

“Oh, they’re  _ sorry _ ! That makes it okay, never mind the fact our ears were all  _ bleeding  _ not twenty minutes ago!”

 

It seemed Daphne, Millicent and Blaise could hold in their laughter any longer, and the three burst into combined hysterics. Pansy found herself joining in whilst Neville buried his face in his hands and Theo continued his rant.

 

“If I  _ ever  _ hear the words  _ Harder, Neville, Harder!  _ Ever again Pansy, I swear!”

 

The evening rolled easily into the night, and before long each couple began to wonder aloud about whether to retire to bed. 

 

“Now, Pansy and Neville,” Theo began.

 

“If you say one more thing,” Pansy snapped, “we will never use a silencing charm again!”

 

Theo snorted. “Fair enough, come on Mills.”

 

“Remember your silencing charm,” Pansy muttered childishly. 

 

“We’re going to have the  _ loudest  _ sex you’ve ever heard after this afternoon, Parkinson.” Theo reached his hand outwards, for Millicent’s, and turned briefly to face Draco’s chair. “Good luck, mate. You’re going to need it,” he said to the empty seat and their best friend, who was to travel home the following day, very much alone.

 

Neville, in turn, raised his almost empty glass. “To Draco.”

 

Theo, and then Blaise, nodded, the atmosphere suddenly far more solemn again. 

 

“To Draco,” the six said as one. “To Draco!”


	47. Against Everything and Everyone They'd Ever Known

Pansy had never particularly liked the Easter holidays much, of the past seven she’d experienced three depressing ones at her parents’ home, two fairly enjoyable with Daphne and her family, one alone at Hogwarts during the year her parents had been on exotic holidays more than they’d been home, and Daphne’s aunt had  _ just  _ passed away and everyone else’s family with pre-booked plans that couldn’t involve a stray teenager. It had left Pansy with nowhere to go bar where she already was, and now she’d spent one with Neville, Daphne, Millicent, Blaise and Theo - six teenagers alone in a heavily warded cottage, copious amounts of food and alcohol, and no adults.

 

It sounded like heaven. 

 

And in another life it should have been.

 

Perhaps, in that other life it was.

 

Instead, it turned out to be the very epitome of worry and despair. A dark cloud of frustration, guilt and anguish had descended upon the cottage. Pansy had never known anxiety had a look before, but it was very much present - not just upon the inhabitants of the cottage’s faces, but on the way Daphne and Millicent’s hands shook on their wine glasses, on their slices of toast and even on their hair brushes. The way Theo’s knee bounced - a nervous habit they’d always known him to have - far more often than was usual, the way Blaise was somehow even more detached, his attention - or perhaps more lack of, focussed more and more out one of the living room windows as he watched everything and absolutely nothing, and the way Neville sat with his fists clenched around the galleon he always carried with him. Pansy had often wondered what was special about the coin, but had never brought herself to ask, knowing instinctively that somehow, whatever the galleon meant, it was private. 

 

For Pansy, the anxiety didn’t shake, or bounce, stare or clench itself around a significant item, it erupted. It snapped, shouted and, quite frankly, got on everyone’s last nerve. 

 

Including the one she’d spent at Hogwarts, Pansy realised gloomily, not even a week after Draco had gone, these Easter holidays were the worst she’d ever endured. 

 

Gods, how she wished she knew he was safe. 

 

How she wished she could keep the others safe. 

 

She was desperate for a message from him, but they’d agreed at some point or another that he wasn’t going to risk sending them one unless it was time. Time for them to go, and fight. 

 

Pansy wondered frequently what good, or how much help, six seventeen year olds could do in an adult’s war. 

 

She daren’t voice aloud that she suspected it was very little.

 

* * *

  
  


It seemed all three couples, when not downstairs together, were spending even more time alone in their respective bedrooms, Pansy and Neville being no exception. It had already become a haven of sorts, their bedroom, and she would miss it, as isolating and suffocating as the cottage could be, Pansy knew she’d miss the place where she and Neville had had the chance to grow even closer. Leaving Hogwarts had been the biggest of risks, but for their relationship at least, it had been the most worth it she knew. 

 

And somehow, here, with just him she felt less agitated, which she imagined he appreciated more than she did. 

 

“I’m being a bitch a lot right now,” Pansy admitted.

 

Neville didn’t argue, and nor did she blame him for not. Instead, he softly kissed her temple, and promptly changed the subject. “If you’d have told me a year ago that I’d be lying in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, missing Draco Malfoy, I’d have called you mad.”

 

“Hmm,” Pansy hummed as she felt him gently stroke the side of her thigh, his stomach was pressed into her back so tightly she could feel it rise and fall as he breathed. She was using the bicep of his other arm as a makeshift pillow and somehow, still wished him closer. “Can you imagine if you’d heard that you’d be shacked up in said cottage with me?”

 

“I’d still have called you mad, but I’d be secretly hoping you were right,” he said, much to Pansy’s surprise.

  
“As if! You didn’t like me a year ago.”

 

“I didn’t  _ like _ you, no,” Neville agreed, “but I can’t pretend I haven’t always found you rather nice to look at.”

 

Pansy was taken aback. “Interesting.” 

 

“You mean you didn’t fancy me a year ago?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Pansy said with a smirk. “I remember the exact moment I started fancying you. It was when you arrived, late may I add, to the prefect’s carriage on the train.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“I remember thinking  _ When the fuck did Neville Longbottom get really fit? _ , or something.”

 

“Wait,” Neville laughed. “Is that why you were acting really weird during that?”

 

“I did not act weird,” Pansy replied with a sniff.  _ Except that’s a huge lie and I acted like a prize idiot during that train journey _

 

“You wouldn’t look at me,” Neville said happily, ignoring her reply. “And when you did you blushed, you know it actually makes a lot of sense now I think about it.”

 

_ Oh, do shut up! _

 

“Smugness does not suit you, Longbottom.”

 

He chuckled. “Maybe not, but grumpiness for some strange reason  _ really  _ suits you.”

 

Pansy sniffed again, but didn’t reply, feigning more annoyance, though she allowed him to see her smile, her mind drifting back to the first few weeks of term. “You were so...nice to me, at the beginning of this year. I never knew why…”

 

“Well I think it’s pretty clear, now anyway,” Neville spoke gleefully, “I obviously sensed on some subconscious level you were desperate for-”

 

“Right!” Pansy cut him off, mid sentence, and promptly turned herself, with some difficulty given the closeness of their proximity, and pounced, unexpectedly - given the shocked look that appeared on Neville’s face, on top of him. 

 

“Neville Longbottom,” Pansy began from her newfound position, straddling him, “I have  _ never  _ been  _ desperate  _ for anything, in my life.”

 

His fingertips ran nondescript patterns over the sides of her thighs. “Duly noted, Beautiful.”

 

Pansy lowered her torso to meet his. “How do you _ do _ that?” she breathed, her lips achingly close to his, so close they brushed against hers when he spoke. 

 

“What’s that?” 

 

“Just,” her voice was still a whisper, “ _ undo  _ me, with one word.”

 

“What,  _ beautiful?” _

 

She kissed him then. “Mmhmm.” 

 

Neville’s voice was suddenly husky, as though he were speaking from his throat. “I hope you don’t mind being  _ undone,  _ because I plan to call you beautiful every single day, from now, until you’re willing to put up with me.”

 

Kissing him again, Pansy smiled against his mouth. “I’ll always be willing to put up with you. I’m very generous like that,” she added slyly, and kissed him, deeper this time, slyly stopping him from replying, wondering how she could ever properly express how grateful she was that  _ he  _ was willing to put up with  _ her.  _

 

* * *

  
  


They hadn’t left their bedroom, Pansy realised, for the remainder of the day, and it wasn’t until the knock on the door, that they interacted with anyone else. 

The knock itself was soft, but somehow made both Pansy and Neville sit bolt upright. It wasn’t a knock one made when wanting a brief chat. This knock had a purpose. 

 

In that moment, she prayed she was wrong. 

 

The door opened a smidge, just enough for one of Blaise’s hands, and his head, to poke through. 

 

“There’s been a message,” he said, his voice steady, “ from Draco.”

 

She knew from the way his forehead was laced with lines, and from the way his knuckle on the doorframe was white from the grip he held it with, but mostly she could tell from everything he said - or didn’t say, with the way his eyes bored right into hers, that she wasn’t wrong. 

 

_ Fuck _

 

They were going to do the one thing they all swore they would, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. And yet it was entirely the hardest.

 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck!  _

 

They were going back to Hogwarts. 

 

Pansy was suddenly very aware of her own hurried heartbeat, booming away not just in her chest, but her throat.

 

They were going to fight against everything and everyone they’d ever known.


	48. A Thousand Times Over

They worked, the six of them, methodically if nothing else. In a way it had been a blessing that they hadn’t had many personal items - even many clothes, with them. For Daphne, Millicent, Blaise and Theo had, at least, what they had packed in their trunks for departing Hogwarts before the Christmas holidays, five months prior. Pansy and Neville had considerably less, considering their wardrobes were made up of what Winky had managed to scramble together before the shit show that was their leaving the school. Packing, at the very least, didn’t take particularly long. 

 

They had decided, before Draco had even left, that when the time came they would do everything they could to pack up what little belongings they had, but the trunks and bags would remain, as would Winky, in the cottage. Retrieving everything - including the elf after whatever was going to happen, happened, had made the most sense at the time. To everyone bar the elf herself, that is. 

 

Winky was  _ not  _ a fan of this particular plan. 

 

She had attempted, unsuccessfully, to argue the point with Pansy a number of times over the past few weeks. Each time leaving more irate than the last, and this time was no exception. 

 

“Winky will do no such thing!”

 

Pansy sighed, before repeating the same words she’d said what felt like a hundred times before. “You  _ will  _ be remaining here, until it is safe for me bring you back to Hogwarts.”

 

“Winky is most displeased by this, yes she is!”

 

Pansy breathed in steadily through her nose. “Really! Well I’d never have guessed, you should have said!”

 

“Sarcasm does not suit Miss. No. It. Does. Not!”

 

Once upon a time, Pansy would have been incredulous to even witness an elf speaking in such a way to a witch or wizard. Now, however, it merely amused her that she’d somehow obtained herself in elf form. “Don’t be ridiculous Winky, sarcasm suits me very well.”

 

“Winky’s place is  _ beside  _ Miss Pansy.” The elf’s tone was different, and Pansy could hear a plea desperation. Her heart sunk to somewhere close to her shoes.

 

She knelt down. “I  _ know  _ that, Winky, I do. But, not for this.”

 

“Winky was the one who got Miss, and made sure she - and Mr Neville, were brought here, so she was.”

 

Pansy smiled sadly. “And that’s  _ exactly  _ why I’m not taking you with me.”

 

Winky’s long rabbit-like ears seemed to bounce softly. “Hmm?”

 

“Before this year, I’d really only known one House Elf, she’s called Tula and she serves Daphne’s family. I met her when I was young, the same day I met Daph,” Pansy recalled, remembering the one thing she was entirely grateful to her mother for arranging with Freya Greengrass, “she was kind - at a time when not many people were kind to me.

 

“I never forgot that,” Pansy said. “I never forgot that one of the first to ever show me kindness as a little girl was a House Elf. And then, years later, I found out - after you nearly gave me a damn heart attack on the first day of term, that I now had my own.

 

“Now, and I say this with love,” Pansy blinked, utterly bemused at the very true admission that she’d grown to not only like and appreciate and respect another House Elf, but in her own way, she really did love Winky.  _ How disconcerting,  _ she thought. “But being lumped with you has often been a pain in the arse. But,” Pansy continued, opting to ignore the snigger that Winky was making no effort to hide, “getting you has been one of the only good things about this year, and I can’t risk anything happening to you.”

 

Pansy watched as Winky’s impossibly round tennis ball eyes filled with tears. “But Winky can  _ help _ -”

 

“I know,” Pansy said. “I  _ know  _ you could help. But I’d like you to sit this one out. You’ve helped me far more than you realise already.”

 

“Winky understands,” the elf replied sadly. “And, Miss Pansy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Miss has helped Winky, more than she realises too.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Winky used to be sad, her last Master - it...did not end well. Winky didn’t believe she could be happy to serve another, no she didn’t. Winky was wrong, Miss. And she’s very glad to be, oh yes she is.”

  
  


* * *

 

It was simple, all things considered. Neville was to return first, through some secret passage in Hogsmeade that led to, as far as Pansy could make out, where the majority of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were hiding from the Carrows. Pansy often wondered, during their time at the cottage, whether any students, bar the  _ loyal _ \- she wanted to scoff every time she so much as thought the word, ones were still even attending lessons. 

 

Her mind drifted back several months, before so much had changed, before they had left and before she had loved him - openly at least, to the two helpless Hufflepuff first years she had helped return to their common room and she hoped the answer was no. 

 

She also hoped, on a fairly regular basis, that both Alecto and Amycus would contract painful boils over a large majority of their bodies. 

 

Once back at Hogwarts, Neville had the small job of convincing over half the student populous that the bunch of Slytherin runaways were on his side, and he had been left with no choice but to leave after not only falling in love with the one that was possibly hated the most, but after finding out he had actually been marked for death by Severus Snape just before Christmas. 

 

Pansy sincerely hoped Finnegan, Weasley and Lovegood, at least, would have his back straight away. 

 

Simultaneously, she found herself hoping, madly, that Finnegan, Weasley and Lovegood were all mostly okay. 

 

_ How odd _

 

He was then to find Draco, ensure the Head Boy was safe, before returning to his friends and signalling Pansy to apparate to the Hog’s Head Inn - of all places, where they would find an ally. 

 

Merlin only knew what form the ally would take. 

 

His signal, he revealed as he pulled on a sweatshirt, was in the form of the galleon he kept. 

 

“It’ll go hot before the message appears here,” he pointed to the writing around the edges.”

 

“Of course,” Pansy let out a soft snort. “Draco...used something really similar last year, she recalled sadly, remembering the fear in his eyes every time he used the enchanted coin to communicate with Madam Rosmerta, the first person Draco had ever placed under the Imperius Curse. “He got the idea from Granger.”

 

“She enchanted these,” Neville replied. 

 

His eyes met hers in a way she wanted nothing more than to defy. 

 

“We’ll give you guys a minute,” Pansy was dimly aware of Theo’s voice speaking words she didn’t want to hear.

 

She swallowed, and her own words, when she spoke them, were scarcely more than a whisper. She’d wanted little more than to leave the sanctity of the cottage, not knowing anything like the cabin fever they had experienced over the last few months. Now, however, she wanted nothing more than for it to continue...preferably forever. “I’m not ready.” 

 

He took the two steps it took to close the gap between them, and placed his hands softly on either side of her head, cupping her face gently. 

 

“Me neither,” he admitted.

 

“Neville-” a thousand  _ what ifs  _ she wanted to voice crossed the forefront of her mind.  _ What if he was seen and killed on sight; what if he was captured the second he apparated to Hogsmeade; what if they, or one of them, didn’t make it through the inevitable fight.  _ Not able to bring herself to finish the sentence, Pansy let a small sob erupt from her lips instead, which Neville caught with a kiss. 

 

She’d never be ready. Not for this. Not for goodbye. 

 

“I’d do it all again,” he whispered, his lips soft against hers, “a thousand times over.”

 

She dug her fingernails into the sides of his waist, willing another way,  _ any  _ other way bar the only one they had. “I would too.”

 

* * *

 

Neville left in a whirlwind of apparition and anguish and, at some point, Pansy must have fallen sideways, for she was caught by Theo, and then guided to the couch. 

 

“Pans, you okay?”

 

Pansy shook her head. The absence, this time not just from Draco’s departure, but Neville’s, was all consumingly overbearing and suffocating and left her both feeling everything she didn’t want to feel, and entirely numb to it. 

 

“No,” she replied. “I don’t think I am.”

 

“I suppose,” Theo said, “this is it.”

 

Pansy didn’t look up, instead nodding at the floor. From somewhere to her left, she became aware of Daphne, and looking up noticed the way the blonde’s face was wrinkled with worry. Pansy offered her best friend a watery smile. 

 

Daphne closed the gap between her and Pansy and Pansy felt a pair of slender arms snake their way around her shoulders. 

 

“You’ll see him again soon,” Daphne said.

 

“Before we fight against Him, and all his followers...most of whom one of us is related to in one way or another.”

 

“I think that’s the part I’m looking forward to the least,” Theo admitted. 

 

A part of her, a larger part than she’d ever admit aloud, didn’t want to go. If it wasn’t for Neville, and Draco, Pansy wasn’t entirely sure she’d be returning to the school at all. 

 

_ Is that bad? _

 

“I hope Neville can convince everyone we’re not going to hex them into oblivion the minute we arrive,” Daphne mused, much to Theo’s apparent amusement. 

 

“You know how well he taught  _ us  _ these last few months _ ,  _ and he left them a ton of instructions to keep training,” Theo said, “if anything, I think  _ we  _ should be worried they’re not planning on hexing us.”

 

“Where’d he learn to duel like that?” Millicent asked. Pansy hadn’t even realised she and Blaise had re-entered the room. 

 

“Do you remember when we were in that stupid  _ Inquisitorial Squad? _ ” Pansy flinched inwardly at the embarrassing memory. 

 

The others nodded.

 

“Well, when they were caught - that’s what they were doing apparently. Potter was teaching them how to defend themselves, and I think this year Neville sort of took over.”

 

“We spent all of Fifth Year getting wasted,” Blaise said, “and they spent it raising an army.”

 

“Ah, Fifth Year,” a dreamlike expression had overcome Theo’s face. “That was a good year.”

 

* * *

 

_ Draco’s face was, if possible, even more smug than usual. He held the bottle higher still. “I took it from my dad’s private stash,” he said proudly, “it’s over twenty years old.” _

 

_ “I couldn’t care if it was two weeks old mate,” Theo replied happily, reaching for the bottle from a now rather disgruntled looking Draco, “as long as it gets me pissed.” _

 

_ Pansy laughed with the others as she lowered her head to perch on Draco’s shoulder. His arm, as it had a hundred times before, reached around her shoulders.  _

 

_ The lake stretched before them, lit up eerily by a bright, almost full moon, the large expanse of the forbidden forest stretched out behind them. They had an hour, if that, before the school doors would be shut for the night. But for now, the four simply were, doing what they loved the most: getting drunk by the side of the water.  _

 

_ Daphne’s legs were thrust over Theo’s. “I hope it’s always this way,” she said, running one hand mindlessly through Theo’s long-ish hair.  _

 

_ “Cold?” Draco offered. _

 

_ Daphne rolled her eyes. “No,” she elongated the word.  _

 

_ “Kind of foggy?” Pansy suggested. _

 

_ “Us together!” Daphne retorted, before letting out a squeal as Theo tickled her side.  _

 

_ “It will be,” Pansy stated. “It has to be, everyone else hates us.” _

 

_ Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Maybe one day they won’t.” _

 

_ “If they’d stop being so stuck up, I’m sure they’d love me,” Pansy said. _

 

_ Draco very nearly choked on his twenty year old whisky. “You’re the most stuck up person I know.” _

 

_ “Irrelevant.” _

 

_ “Sure it is, Pansy.” _

 

* * *

 

They predicted, early after Neville’s departure, that the waiting around for his signal to go to Hogsmeade would be the worst bit: they weren’t wrong. 

 

_ Waiting _ , Pansy deliberated,  _ is a heinous and torturous affair _ . 

 

“I hate this,” Millicent sat herself down on the couch. Their packing - not that there had been that much to do, especially since they had a rogue House Elf for help, was complete. “This waiting, not knowing. Pansy it must be killing you.”

 

Millicent immediately threw a hand up over her mouth, her eyes wide in shock as though she couldn’t quite believe her own words. “Pans, I’m sorry...that was really insensitive.”

 

Pansy waved one hand nonchalantly. “It’s fine,” she said. “It  _ is  _ killing me, but you saying so won’t make it kill me any more. I wish,” she paused, wondering whether to utter the truth aloud. It sounded so juvenile in her mind, but it was all she had, and it was honest. “I wish we could have just run away.”

 

“You and Neville?” Millicent asked gently.

 

“Me and all of us.”

 

“It’s okay to want to run away.”

 

“Is it?” Pansy asked, unsure. It felt a wholly selfish want. 

 

“To  _ want  _ to? Of course it is.”

 

* * *

 

_ “I feel it might be a slight overreaction,” Millicent’s forehead was wrinkled as she and Pansy looked down at the erupting scene.  _

 

_ “It is NOT an overreaction!” Daphne panted. “Okay, how do Muggles do this?” she stopped, and simply stared at the large purple something she was currently attempting to ram a number of clothes into. The something, according to Daphne, was what Muggles used in replacement of a trunk. A suitcase she’d called it, though Pansy - and by the look on her face, Millicent also, couldn’t fathom why Daphne wouldn’t just use her trunk for the most pointless endeavor she was attempting, albeit so far unsuccessfully, to embark upon. Daphne’s current plan involved packing said suitcase, finding her way to London, booking a room in a very expensive hotel, and getting a Muggle tattooist to ink a dolphin onto her lower back.  _

 

_ Her suitcase-related predicament was due to the fact that, for some unbeknownst reason, extension charms - detectable or otherwise, failed to work on them correctly.  _

 

_ “Perhaps we just didn’t do the charm right,” Millicent said, “they’re pretty advanced magic, and we’re only Fifth Years, I don’t-” _

 

_ “We’re about to go into Sixth Year,” Daphne snapped, her face pink and her expression furlorn.  _

 

_ Daphne pouted as she sank to the floor beside her purple suitcase. “I feel like I’ll never get my dolphin.” _

 

_ Pansy raised her eyebrows and shifted her mouth into a single, horizontal line. “Probably a good thing, really.” _

 

_ Daphne looked genuinely offended. “How can you say that?!” _

 

_ “How can you have a Daphne Drama this big, over Theo saying you look young?” _

 

_ “That is  _ not _ what this is about!” _

 

_ “That is  _ exactly  _ what this is about,” Pansy countered.  _

 

_ “Theodore’s comments - no matter how wrong they are, and how much they were only said to justify him sleeping with Sadie Avery, have nothing to do with me going to London.” _

 

_ “It’s okay to want to run away,” said Millicent gently. _

 

_ Daphne swallowed, and Pansy didn’t miss the shift in the blonde’s entire demeanor and suddenly she looked hopelessly and incredibly lost. Exchanging a brief glance with Millicent, Pansy gave a small shrug. Perhaps Daphne’s breakup with Theo had affected her more than they’d realised. In the second it took to Daphne burst into tears, both Pansy and Millicent had dropped to their knees and wrapped her up in their arms.  _

 

_ “Is it really okay to want to run away?” Daphne asked through sobs.  _

 

_ “Of course it is, you can’t run away, not really...but it’s okay to want to.” _

 

* * *

 

“I wouldn’t blame you guys,” Pansy said, “if you didn’t go back.” Hours had passed, around three to be exact, though it felt like twenty three. She wanted the coin’s temperature to change more than she currently wished for anything. 

 

It was Blaise who answered first, in words determined yet gentle. “We’re coming, all of us.”

 

“You’ll be seen as traitors, we’ll all be seen as traitors,” Pansy reasoned, “that’s not a particularly enviable position.”

 

Blaise shrugged. “We’re already seen as traitors.”

 

“You know what I mean.” There was such a difference, Pansy knew, between being a traitor on the run and hidden, and being a traitor in plain sight. And they were switching from the former to the latter in the blink of an eye. 

 

“If we’re traitors,” Theo said, his voice holding steady, “we’re traitors together.”

 

* * *

 

_ He raised the tin in the air, towards Blaise. “Bloody good, this!” _

 

_ “Agreed,” Blaise held out his own tin, and touched it to Theo’s. Where there ought to have been a clink of glass, there was instead a rather unremarkable soft thud of metal on metal. “Want one, Draco?” _

 

_ Draco was staring at the tins of beer with a look of horror. “Absolutely not.” _

 

_ “You’re missing out, mate,” Theo replied, enthusiastically taking another large sip.  _

 

_ “I’d rather drink piss than that cheap shit.” Draco snapped. _

 

_ “Fucking snob,” Blaise said, much to Theo’s amusement. “I’d take beer over your stupid whisky any day.” _

 

_ “Unbelievable.” _

 

_ “Girls?” Theo offered a further tin towards Pansy, which - much to Draco’s clear disgust, she accepted, and then a further two, to Daphne and then Millicent. _

 

_ “Traitors!” Draco hissed. “The lot of you!” _

 

* * *

 

She knew it would, it was always going to - unless something horrible happened, of course, and this meant it hadn’t...she hoped, but yet Pansy, in spite of the fact they had hated the waiting, still didn’t feel in any way prepared when the coin she’d been grasping so hard there were deep grooves running around her palm, suddenly heated up. 

 

It wasn’t a heat hot enough to hurt, but it jarred her. 

 

Pansy took a deep breath. “Guys?”

 

Four sets of expectant eyes snapped to meet hers. 

 

Her fingers brushed over the galleon. “It’s time.”


	49. The Battle of Hogwarts | I, II & III

 

-I-

 

They apparated, just as planned, into the Hog’s Head pub and were met by a vaguely familiar figure - who, according to Neville, was some kind of ally to them. At one point, Pansy remembered, they had been most thrilled when this man in particular had not been bothered about querying their ages when they’d ordered various drinks. 

 

Now, however, he wasn’t there to serve them drinks. 

 

“You Longbottom’s lot?” he asked gruffly. 

 

“Yes,” Theo answered with a curt nod.

 

The barman turned and inclined his head to a large painting Pansy hadn’t noticed. A young girl in a blue dress offered the man a wide smile before turning and disappearing backwards somewhere through what could have been a tunnel, leaving an empty backdrop behind. 

 

“Run away, did you?” he asked.

 

“Bit more to it than that, mate,” Theo responded, polite but pointedly.

 

“Fair enough.”

 

The wait, which Pansy knew logically was probably no more than a few minutes, felt like hours. Until finally, through breaths that were baited and a struggle to keep from being laboured, she saw him. 

 

He smiled the smile he kept just for her as he approached, finally reaching the forefront of the painting and jumping down into the room to join them. Never before had Pansy thrown her arms around someone with quite so much gusto. 

 

He pulled back, though kept his hands positioned firmly on either side of her waist, and locked his blue eyes to her green. “You alright?” he said in barely more than a whisper. 

 

Pansy nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. It was easier to lie to him when she wasn’t required to actually say anything. 

 

The way the pad of his thumb circled through the fabric of her top told her he knew she was far from alright. 

 

“Okay,” Neville began, addressing the others. “Once we go through the painting, it leads us into the Room of Requirement, everything is a bit up in the air. Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived a while ago-”

 

“Potter’s at Hogwarts?” Theo interjected.

 

Neville nodded. “We’re preparing to fight, think Alecto saw him and called You-Know-Who.”

 

“Fuck,” Theo replied. 

 

“Yeah,” Neville began to move towards the portrait, beckoning the others to follow suit. “Thanks, Aberforth,” he added, nodding once more at the barman, who muttered something blunt and raspy under his breath. 

 

The tunnel didn’t take them as long as Pansy would have thought. Her hand was clasped with Neville’s as they made their way through the stone passageway. Until then, Pansy hadn’t particularly thought about what would happen when they returned. As they walked, however, she began to feel a sense of nervousness gather in a jittery ball somewhere just below her navel. 

 

_ Finnegan knows, and Weasley and Lovegood.  _

 

Three people was a very short list, when the rest of the students despised you. 

 

They entered the castle and, just as Neville had stated, ended up in what Pansy knew must be the Room of Requirement. She didn’t know a lot about the mysterious area of the castle, only that it could meld itself to the needs of whoever desired entry, and that it was where Draco went to fix the vanishing cabinet during Sixth Year. Apart from the time Dolores Umbridge had blown open the door to bust Potter’s secret club, Pansy hadn’t been anywhere near the room. 

 

As though by reflex, she jerked her hand from Neville’s, stung with a humiliation that hadn’t yet come to pass, though one that she was sure was a certainty. 

 

He shot her a strange, sideways glance in which his eyes were laced with the hint of a smile, before decidedly taking her hand back once more in his own, and holding it tighter still. She wanted to tell him the action made her love him all the more. 

 

Instead, her mouth felt incapable of forming anything resembling words. 

 

The space was large and full of what appeared to be hammocks hanging from the ceiling. The colours of the Houses decorated the walls, though she couldn’t help but notice Slytherin’s silver and green was decidedly absent. 

 

_ Oh Merlin _

 

Pansy’s nerves intensified at the stark realisation she was now, indeed, back inside Hogwarts. The last time she had been so had been before she went to meet Rabastan. At the unwelcome thought, a thousand icy memory shards stabbed her somewhere close to the centre of her sternum. 

 

The room was abuzz with activity and bodies, most of whom, Pansy was relieved to notice, hadn’t paid the new arrivals any attention. 

 

A few, however, had. 

 

Ginny Weasley appeared through a small, nearby crowd. 

 

“You came,” the redhead stated bluntly. 

 

Pansy didn’t have a clue what to respond, and instead didn’t. From just behind her she heard Theo utter, “Alright, Weasley?” just as she became aware of several nearby cries that sounded far, far less welcoming than Ginny’s had. 

 

“What the hell are  _ they  _ doing here?!” 

 

“Neville, what’s all this?!”

 

“Fucking  _ Parkinson  _ is here!”

 

Pansy had little clue as to who had even spoken which outburst, only that she desperately wished she could be anywhere else and not able to hear them. 

 

“Neville what  _ is _ this?!” 

 

Now, it seemed, others were paying attention, and Neville raised his free hand, palm outwards, and spoke, loudly, to the watching crowd of students and others alike. Pansy noticed, after a brief sweep of the room, their old Defense teacher Lupin, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, amongst others. 

 

“Alright,” Neville began, “I know the arrival of, uhh, these guys is probably a surprise to most of you.”

 

“You can bloody say that again!” Pansy shot Justin Finch-Fletchley the most irritated look she could muster. 

 

“But, you have to believe me,” Neville continued, ignoring Justin, “when I say they’re on our side.”

 

His announcement was met with a buzz of disbelief. The words  _ Parkinson, Nott,  _ and _ Death Eater  _ were a few of the words Pansy was able to decipher. Neville raised his hand once more. “I promise you all, I wouldn’t risk this if I wasn’t sure.”

 

“There’s no way-”

 

“Neville’s right,” Pansy could scarcely stop the gasp that escaped her lips as Ginny stepped forwards, joining them. “I didn’t believe them at first either, but...they’re on our side.”

 

“How do you-”

 

“I didn’t believe them,” Ginny repeated, “until I saw Par-uhh, Pansy, and Theo, curse Alecto.”

 

A stunned quiet was all that was present for a few seconds. 

 

“It was rather impressive,” Luna Lovegood’s singsong voice echoed through the quiet, and Pansy found her eyes drawn to the blonde and something uncomfortably close to relief at the sight of Luna unnerved her. 

 

“They fucked off for months!” 

 

“So did I,” Neville pointed out to a Ravenclaw Pansy barely recognised. 

 

“You said that was because the Carrows marked you for death.”

 

“They did. Pansy and the others left because You-Know-Who had earmarked them, for the dark mark, which none of them were willing to take.”

 

Pansy didn’t miss the slight hint of pride in his voice when he spoke. Nor did she miss the way he impressively orchestrated the crowd of onlookers as though he were talking to only a few people. 

 

From over to her right, Pansy heard the clearing of a throat, and a familiar voice, rife with an Irish twang, spoke. “It’s true,” Seamus said. “I’ve known for a while, and I believe them. The day the Carrows attacked me and Neville, I found out the truth.”

 

A silence followed Seamus’s words, broken by the smallest of voices. “It was you tha-that helped us,” Pansy’s gaze was drawn to the source, a nearby First Year. She recognised the girl instantly, she was the one who Pansy had kept a lookout for, so she and her friend could return to their common room. 

 

“I, uh...yeah,” Pansy faltered, “that was me.”

 

Another, entirely strange voice, broke at that moment. “I always wondered why,” Pansy located the boy, who looked no older than fourteen. Pansy realised she did, in fact, recognise him, “that time you were ordered to torture me, you cast a spell...and I screamed and screamed, but it wasn’t sore.”

 

From another part of the room, a muttering that Pansy hoped she was reading correctly as agreement, could just be heard.

 

The next to speak was Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Minister for Magic stepped forward, his presence altogether impressive. 

 

“Parkinson,” he looked at Pansy, who nodded, before his eyes swept over the others, and rested on Theo, “and Nott. As in Cassius, and Theodore?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Your parents are  _ not  _ good people, Miss Parkinson, Mr Nott.” His voice was heavy with accusation.

 

“I’m not my father,” Pansy replied, as Neville squeezed her hand. “No more than Theo is his.”

 

“I despise mine,” Theo added in agreement.

 

“And mine,” Pansy stated, finding the subject harder still, even now, “is a Death Eater because he literally sold me. I have less loyalty to him - to any of them, than you probably do, Minister.”

 

Shacklebolt’s eyebrows shot up his forehead in shock as regarded the pair for what felt far longer than Pansy suspected it was, until eventually, their words apparently enough to satisfy him, he gave them both a curt, barely a nod inclination of his head, before the familiar, but booming, all-encompassing voice of Minerva McGonagall filled their ears. 

 

“ALL STUDENTS ARE TO GATHER IN THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY. ALL STUDENTS TO THE GREAT HALL.”

 

Further silence followed the announcement, before a collective shuffling as students began to shuffle out of the room. 

 

“Alright,” Pansy heard Blaise say, “Let’s go to the Hall.”

 

* * *

  
  


Whispers she more than likely imagined followed Pansy, and the others, all the way to the Great Hall. Finding their place, with the other Slytherins, Pansy, Theo, Millicent and Blaise stood together, unmoving until she heard a familiar voice, just louder than the confused din of students. 

 

Not caring in the moment of how unloyal she, or he, may look. Not that it mattered anymore how she was viewed, having been outed not ten minutes prior, Pansy supposed, as she flung her arms around Draco’s neck. 

 

“Merlin,” Draco steadied him, and her, self, having been almost bowled over entirely from the momentum Pansy had thrown herself against him with. “Get it together, Pansy,” he said, half-laughing in spite of himself, and in spite of everything going on around them. As she pulled back she met his eyes with her own. 

 

“It’s good to see you,” she whispered. 

 

“And you,” turning to the others, Pansy watched Draco momentarily reconnect with Theo, Blaise, Millicent and Daphne, respectfully. 

 

“Good to see you, mate,” Theo said.

 

They had little chance to say much to each other. Looking around, Pansy realised most of the school was present, and Professor McGonagall was speaking.

 

“...when I give the word, you will organise your houses, and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point.”

 

Pansy wished for nothing more than to grab Neville and evacuate with the others. 

 

From the Hufflepuff throng, Pansy heard the voice of Ernie Macmillan query whether they could stay and fight. Knowing it was futile, and the Neville had no intention of going anywhere  _ but  _ into the fight, Pansy wished McGonagall would say every student, of age or no, had to leave. 

 

“If you are of age, you may stay.”

 

Pansy suspected she was missing more talking, but cared little, after finally having located the stark and strong figure that Neville cut. His eyes were staring directly into hers, saying a thousand more words than anyone around them possibly could. 

 

Professor McGonagall was saying something about protection around the castle when, swapping a brief look of something between comfort and support with both Daphne and Millicent, Pansy turned to look at Neville once more, when her thoughts, feelings and fears were all but temporarily wiped, by the arrival of a sinister and booming voice, that felt as though it were screaming in her own ears. And despite never having spoken to its owner, she, and she would imagine everyone around her, held no confusion over just who was speaking. 

 

“I know that you are preparing to fight.” Pansy heard screams echo from all around as a collective panic seemed to settle over everyone present, she no exception. “Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight.”

 

_ What the- _

 

Directly to Pansy’s left, so close to cry made her jump, a girl only just shorter than Pansy raised a shaking hand, and pointed directly at Harry Potter, who Pansy had somehow failed to notice amid the chaos.

 

“But he’s there! Potter’s  _ there!  _ Someone grab him!”

 

What felt like a hundred and more pairs of eyes were drawn towards them, and instantaneously a number of students, not just from Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, moved as one, in front of Harry Potter, protecting him. 

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Pansy hissed, not as quiet as she perhaps should have, at the girl, who looked perplexed at the act. 

 

“Thank you,” Professor McGonagall said dryly, “Miss Axle, you will leave the Hall first with Mr Filch, along with,” Pansy swallowed as McGonagall regarded her coolly over her glasses, “the Head Girl and Boy.”

 

It was one of the more Gryffindor-esc things she had ever done in her life. “No,” she said, praying her voice wouldn’t falter. “I’m staying.”

 

Pansy had rarely seen Minerva McGonagall lost for words, and she watched the older witch blink, before stating, loudly. “All Slytherins underage and wishing to leave, go so with Mr Filch now, Ravenclaws follow suit,” before she rounded on Pansy directly. “I can assure you, Miss Parkinson, this is no game.”

 

The words, and sins, of her father, burned into the forefront of her mind.  _ No it isn’t,  _ Pansy thought,  _ not anymore.  _

 

It felt as though by a miracle, when Neville appeared by McGonagall’s side. 

 

“I know it isn’t,” Pansy replied. “I’m not on their- _ his _ , side. I never have been”

 

McGonagall opened her mouth, but didn’t speak.

 

“She’s telling the truth,” Neville said, shooting Pansy the briefest of smiles. 

 

The older witch did nothing to hide the shock in her voice. “You can vouch for her, Mr Longbottom?”

 

“Yes,” said Neville, with no trace of faltering. “And for the others, the Seventh Years anyway,” he gestured behind Pansy. Turning her head, Pansy realised dismally only she, her friends and a couple of others had remained from Slytherin house. 

 

“Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall’s voice was barely a whisper. 

 

Draco’s eyes were darting, the only part of him to look close to fearful. “He can’t know,” Draco said flatly. “Not until my mother-” he broke off, and Pansy was grateful McGonagall didn’t press him further. 

 

Instead, her eyes travelled to Theo. “Mr Nott?”

 

Theo took a deep breath, his usual sass and bravado absent. “We aren’t our parents, Professor,” he replied, echoing Pansy’s sentiment to Kingsley Shacklebolt. 

 

“Very well, the dungeons, they are a weak spot,” McGonagall said, “they run under the entirety of the castle and it would be incredibly useful to have people stationed there, to stop anyone who may try to use them to sneak about.”

 

“We can do that,” Theo replied enthusiastically. 

 

“I am glad to hear it, Mr Nott.” McGonagall’s  voice was a fraction softer than it had been as she regarded Theo. “I am glad to hear it.”

 

* * *

 

-II-

 

“It’s quite exciting, isn’t it?” Daphne was saying as she, Blaise and Pansy made their way towards the entrance to the dungeons a short while later. Theo and Millicent had gone in the opposite direction, towards the other entrance, and Draco, rather suspiciously after spotting Potter in the crowd, hastily said he had something he had to do. 

 

She loathed to admit it, but Pansy couldn’t help but agree, a small part of her did anyway.

 

The other, larger part, was still terrified. Of what, Pansy couldn’t quite pinpoint. Rabastan, the Dark Lord, or her father. The latter she supposed was the least menacing, but in many ways was the one she wished to see the least. She’d never hated him, before, not really, but Rabastan’s words, as they so often had, pierced her very heart like a dagger. 

 

_ And I was the highest bidder _

 

She hated him now. 

 

Of that much she was sure. 

 

* * *

 

Securing the dungeons was a mammoth task too vast for five teenagers, but Pansy and the others did their best in the short time they had. The group worked as systematically as they were able, and before long they had placed a number of hexes and traps in various parts of the dungeons, which ought to at least slow down any rogue Death Eaters who decided to utilise the underground parts of the castle. 

 

A number of bangs and a thundering of a great number of rushing footsteps above echoed around them, sounded even louder than it probably ought to. Pansy was just finishing a modified tripping jinx she had manage to attach to a nearby stone, when a number of screams emanated from not too far above their position. 

 

“Merlin,” Blaise checked the watch on his wrist. “It’s just after five past twelve.”

 

_ You have until midnight. _

 

Midnight had been and gone without them realising. The battle, that they were now directly involved in, the battle that marked them as traitors and could very likely be the cause of their deaths, had started. 

 

* * *

 

They stayed put, as instructed, until Pansy could bear to do so no longer. Turning towards the stairs that led to the entrance hall, she felt Blaise’s hand on her arm. 

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I can’t just stay here.”

 

“Isn’t that exactly what we’re supposed to be doing?” Daphne asked. 

 

An explosion of some sort went off close to them, the noise ricocheting around them as the dungeons, once again, made louder by the enclosed, dark space. 

 

“I can’t,” Pansy replied, “I can’t just stay here, out the way. Not whilst they’re all fighting.”

 

“Alright,” Daphne said, and exchanged a determined nod with Blaise, “let’s go.”

 

Pansy blinked. “I didn’t mean we all had to, you guys can just-”

 

A further explosion, this one closer, stole the rest of her words.

 

“As if we’d let you go without us.”

 

Pansy wished she were able to convey the gratitude for Daphne and Blaise in that moment, instead she settled on vowing to herself to buy them a holiday were they all to somehow miraculously make it out of the fight alive. 

 

“We should find Theo and Millicent,” Blaise said.

 

“I agree,” Pansy said, although her mind was on someone distinctly  _ not  _ Theo, or Millicent. 

 

“And Draco,” Daphne added. “And Neville.”

 

They entered the entrance hall into utter chaos; the air thick was dust and magic and a deafening and confusing din of shouting.  

 

Within mere seconds, all three had thrown up shield charms and sent a barrage of curses. Pansy hoped there weren’t too many people who still believed her a Death Eater in training. 

 

“Let’s go,” Pansy barely heard Blaise shout over the noise. She’d never have believed the sheer volume were she told. Together, the three began to fight their way across the hall. It didn’t feel like how she’d imagined, although how could it? How could she have ever thought they’d prepared, for this? For war?

 

“Thanks,” Ginny Weasley shouted, after Pansy successfully stunned one of the three she and Luna were fighting.

 

It took a long while to find Theo, and it was, in fact, he who found them. Sweat glistened over his brow, where a large nasty looking cut was present. It oozed a nasty yellowish liquid which in any other circumstance both Pansy and Daphne would have recoiled from. Now, however, Pansy found herself unable to care about Theo’s grotescue wound, and in a deserted corridor, hugged him as tight as she could. 

 

“Where’s Mills?!”

 

“Dunno,” Theo’s brows knitted together in concern as he leaned in to hug Blaise, “we got separated after we came up.”

 

“Shit.”

 

There was so much going on, both directly where they were, and all around, that were it anything less, she might have missed it. But there was no missing the searing pain that cut through Pansy’s arm from a nearby, rogue curse. 

 

“ARRGH!” she yelled to noone in particular, holding her arm. She whirled around but telling who the culprit was in the disarray that was the battle was an impossibility. 

 

“GET DOWN!” Blaise’s words made sense to her just in time, and with less than a second to spare, Pansy ducked. Looking up, a charred black mark was positioned exactly where Pansy’s head had been, just moments before. 

 

The others had placed shield charms around their position, and both Blaise and Theo were sending spell after spell at a group of Death Eaters nearby. Pansy recognised a few, Mulciber had done business with her father for years, and Yaxley had sat at her dining room table a number of times. 

 

A curse Blaise fired hit Yaxley on the leg, and the Death Eater, after letting out a roar similarly to one Pansy would expect to hear from a cave bear, sent a number of curses directly at the small group, one of which caused a thick, black smog-like  _ something  _ to erupt all around them. In the confusion, Pansy and Theo jumped one way, and Blaise and Daphne another. Clinging to whatever part of Theo she could, Pansy heard the sound of her own scream as what felt like a number of people running around, and on top of, them.    
  


“Stay down,” she heard Theo say somewhere close to her left ear. By her heart, she felt a warmth emanating from where she knew her shikkane sat. The pain in her arm and face was still very much present but Pansy thought perhaps it was a touch dampened. 

 

A huge, louder than any she had heard this far, explosion sounded just above where they were, and the number of crashes and bangs that follows, all around them, and - terrifyingly, on top of them, told her that, in some form, part of the castle had been blown up. The sting in her arm was greater now, and throbbing, and Pansy could feel a similar pain pulsing close to her chin. She felt sore almost everywhere, her body ached, and already felt like one giant bruise was settling in. 

 

She and Theo emerged, magically blasting their way through a number of large rocks and boulders, coughing and spluttering on the enormous volume of dust, to the realisation that, as much as she was glad Yaxley and Mulciber were gone, Blaise and Daphne were too. 

 

“Where the fuck-” she heard Theo question the very thing running through her own mind. Nearby she could see what looked an awful lot like a small pile of dead bodies. Pansy swallowed. 

 

Theo looked as beaten as she felt, and he grabbed her arm - her uninjured one thankfully, and pulled her away from the wreckage. “Come on!’ 

 

They made their way, if truth be told aimlessly, through the castle. Past fighters, both downed and still standing, firing spells at whoever they saw and knew weren’t on their side as carefully as they were able. 

 

“Maybe we should double back,” Pansy suggested, after they had searched fruitlessly for longer than she had hoped they’d have to, maybe Daphne-”

 

But Theo had thrown one arm outwards, hitting Pansy in the stomach and halting her words by momentarily winding her. 

 

There, directly in front of them, and luckily were still yet to notice the two teenagers, stood two of possibly the worst people they could have come across. 

 

Theodore Nott, Sr, had never been a particularly attractive man. Pansy had often wondered just how attractive Theo’s mother must have been in her youth, for - luckily for Theo, he certainly hadn’t inherited his father’s looks. He stood, tall and imposing, an unworried look loomed on his waxy face. He was discussing something, something which seemed to bore - given their matched expressions, both he and his acquaintance.

 

Pansy watched, as rooted to the spot as Theo was, as Rabastan pushed his longish, dank hair out of his eyes. She wanted to both scream and not utter a sound, to both run and stay still, to kill him, and run from him. 

 

She felt Theo’s hand gently grip her arm, and guide her, both with and against all of her conflicting instincts, into a nearby room. 

 

“Pans?! Pans it’s okay, he’s not here.”

 

Pansy realised at some point she must have started hyperventilating. “Theo, I…” she broke off, with no real clue as to what she even would have said. 

 

He allowed her a long minute to collect herself, before asking, “Are you okay to keep going?”

 

“Yeah,” Pansy swallowed. “Sorry, I…”

 

She felt him grab her hand in his own. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Theo appeared to visibly shake himself. “Always thought if I had the chance, I’d be able to do it,” Pansy heard him mutter. 

 

He leant his head out just enough to peek into the corridor. “It’s deserted,” he said, “let’s go.”

 

“Okay,” Pansy replied, wondering whether Neville and the others were okay. 

 

They had barely made it through the door when the same booming, all-encompassing voice from before began to echo all around them. It felt as though the Dark Lord was screaming, albeit camly, directly into Pansy’s head. 

 

“You have fought valiantly, Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.” In spite of himself, and the situation, Theo snorted. “If you continue to resist me you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.

 

‘Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. 

 

‘You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. 

 

‘‘I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.'

 

“Shit,” Theo said. 

 

Pansy’s thoughts were on the others again. “We need to find them Theo.” 

 

They began to make their way towards the Great Hall, which seemed the most logical place for everyone to congregate. Pansy hoped Neville and her friends would be amongst them. 

 

The Hall was full, of students, teachers, fighters and everything in between. Pansy swallowed dryly at the sight of the river of dead bodies, each placed carefully and respectfully down the centre of the long room. Saying a brief  _ please please please _ to any deity willing to listen, Pansy preyed that Neville, or Daphne, or Draco, Blaise or Millicent weren’t amongst them.

 

It was Daphne who found them first, and a squeal was the only warning she got before her best friend launched herself into her, nearly knocking the pair of them off balance. Pansy’s arms tightened around Daphne’s back as tears gathered behind her now closed eyelids. 

 

“We didn’t know what happened to you both,” Daphne was saying. “Oh Pans, I’m so so happy to see you.”

 

“I’m happy to see you too,” Pansy replied, her words muffled against Daphne’s shoulder. “We haven’t seen anyone, we didn’t know,” her words were as disjointed as her thoughts. 

 

“With you and Theo here,” Daphne said, “everyone is safe.”

 

“Y-you’ve seen…” Pansy couldn’t continue. 

 

“Babe he’s standing right behind you.” 

 

She left Daphne’s embrace, whirling around, not daring to believe the words, and entered Neville’s. His arms, as they always had, felt like home. 

 

“I tried to find you,” he breathed against her, holding her tighter than he ever had. 

 

Pansy’s voice was little more than a high pitched squeak. “I tried to find  _ you. _ ” 

 

She didn’t want to let lax the grip her arms had around him, but he forced her gently, pulling back, just enough in order for him to get a look at her face. She must have looked worse than she’d realised, given the sharp intake of breath he took. As for Neville, Pansy was relieved to see he didn’t look as bad as he could have. Not as bad as she looked, clearly. 

 

“Oh, baby,” he whispered. His eyes roamed over her face, resting momentarily on the cut by her chin, before pulling her against him once more. 

 

She didn’t know how long they stayed there. After letting go, begrudgingly, of Neville, Pansy was reunited with Blaise, and then Millicent. 

 

They were situated on the edge of what was usually the Slytherin table. No one paid them any attention, though Pansy realised, with a raw surge of emotion, that the attention they did receive was positive. 

 

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” another voice cut through their reunion, and Pansy turned to see a vaguely familiar face. 

 

_ He used to play Quidditch for Gryffindor  _

 

“Neville are you still okay to…” he trailed off. 

 

Reluctantly, Neville removed his hand from the small of Pansy’s back. “Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll be back,” he said, before, as gently as he could, placed a brief kiss upon her lips. 

 

She watched him leave, with the older boy she wanted to call Wood, wondering vaguely just what it was Neville was still okay to do.  

 

“Hey,” she heard from behind. Pansy turned as quickly as she could, and threw her arms around Draco, squeezing him as tight as she dared. 

 

“Hi,” she squeaked back, her usual tone having apparently long since deserted her. Pulling back, Pansy examined him. He didn’t look good, although remembering Neville’s reaction upon seeing her own face, Pansy didn’t doubt that right then she looked worse. Various small cuts littered his face, and he had a somewhat charred look to him, as though he’d been thrown briefly on a bonfire. 

 

“Want to sit?” he gestured towards the nearby benches. Pansy nodded, unsure whether she’d be able to speak like herself ever again. 

 

“Where did you go?” she asked, “when we went to the dungeons.”

 

Draco swallowed, and Pansy didn’t miss the way he wrung his hands together. “I went...to help Potter.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“After I returned, I figured I would try do some good whilst you lot were still at the cottage. So I tracked down Crabbe and Goyle.”

 

Pansy wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Bet that was fun.”

 

“Tons,” Draco replied dryly. “Anyway, by this point I made them tell me pretty much everything they knew about anything, most of it utter drivel, but one thing I  _ did  _ learn was that when the inevitable happened and Potter returned here, they were going to do everything in their combined, insignificant power, to thwart him. They had this dream of being the ones to deliver him to the Dark Lord.”

 

“What?” Pansy mentally brushed aside her momentary desire to laugh. 

 

“So tonight I knew they’d sneak back into the fight, which they did, and follow him, which they did. So I followed them. Then they saw me,” Draco added, clearly annoyed at the occurrence, “so then I obviously had to pretend to still be on their side.

 

“We followed Potter, Weasley and Granger to the Room of Requirement, and then to cut a long and pretty boring story short, Crabbe ended up casting bloody fiendfyre of all things.”

 

“Where the hell did he learn to do that?” Pansy wondered aloud.

 

“No idea, anyway Potter seemed to realise I’d been throwing curses at Crabbe and Goyle and not him, pulled me on his broom-”

 

“His broom?”

 

“Insignificant detail. Pulled me on his broom, and Weasley ended up saving Goyle, you can imagine how happy he was about that.”

 

“I can’t imagine how happy  _ I’d  _ be about that, let alone Weasley,” Pansy said with a snort of laughter. 

 

“Yeah, well, we got out, the five of us anyway. Goyle’s still up there as far as I know, unconscious. He can stay there for all I care.”

 

“And...Crabbe?”

 

“Dead,” Draco said with no hint of remorse. 

 

“Huh,” Pansy replied, feeling the same amount. 

 

One by one, their friends ended up joining them. Slytherin table was the least occupied, but was being used by some nearby.

 

“I’m going to offer to help, over there,” Daphne nodded. Pansy’s gaze followed and saw Madam Pomfrey, a giant stack of bandages and a dwindling potion supply. 

 

“Okay,” Blaise replied before giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “She’s too good for me,” he added as he watched her leave.

 

Pansy’s mouth was dry, her eyes were no longer on Madam Pomfrey, but Neville once more, who she had noticed return to the Hall. In his arms was the torso, whilst Wood carried the legs, of a fallen fighter.  _ That’s what he was going to do, retrieve the dead. _ “I know the feeling.”

  
  
  


* * *

 

-III-

 

“Harry Potter is dead.” The voice, the same magically enhanced, painfully loud, sinister voice cut through every single person present like a large, sweeping knife. “He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself, whilst you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero has gone.

 

“The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will their entire family. 

 

“Come out of your castle now, kneel before me and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”

 

Silence passed over not just their group, which Neville and Daphne had since rejoined, having finished helping, but over what felt like the entirety of Hogwarts. 

 

As one, the occupants of the Hall rose, and began to slowly make their way out the doors, to the courtyard beyond. Fear positively gripped Pansy. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to loosen her grip on Neville’s hand if she had wanted to. 

 

Outside, the atmosphere felt as fragile as a twig, as though one snap and it could be somehow broken. Potter lay in a chained Hagrid’s arms. He looked very much, just as Voldemort had stated, dead. 

 

“Merlin,” she heard Theo say, his voice low, from just behind her. 

 

Pansy heard shouts, primarily from Harry Potter’s loved ones, all around her. At one point Voldemort himself shouted for silence, but was all but ignored. Ron Weasley yelled, clearly without care. Pansy didn’t blame him. Maneuvering her gaze over the throng of Death Eaters Pansy was able to locate those she recognised easily. Her father stood near the back, only the top of his face visible to her. Rabastan stood close to Voldemort, his sneer more prominent than ever, Draco’s parents stood slightly off to the side. There were no sneers present on either Lucius or Narcissa’s faces. Pansy turned her face to look first at Draco, who was whiter than normal, and then at Neville, who looked nothing short of livid. 

 

He turned his own head, his eyes meeting hers in a flash of understanding Pansy wished she  _ didn’t _ understand.  _ No,  _ she mouthed. 

 

“I love you,” he said, before wrenching his hand from hers, and stepping forwards. 

 

_ WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING! _

 

It didn’t take Pansy long to realise that someone - probably Draco, had both silenced her and rooted her to the spot. Unable to move, she could only watch, horrified as the person she had grown to love more than anything in the world, did the very thing she was certain would mean he would no longer be a part of the world for her to love. 

 

Neville had run forwards, and promptly been disarmed. 

 

_ YOU FUCKING IDIOT,  _ Pansy’s thoughts screamed through. Only able to see the horror unfold, and cry, she daren’t look, daren’t watch as what she was certain was the inevitable happened, and yet she couldn’t look away, both physically and emotionally. She wouldn’t look away. She loved him too much to do that, as much as his  _ STUPID GRYFFINDOR HERO COMPLEX  _ was going to get him killed, she loved him too much to ever look away. 

 

Voldemort was questioning who Neville was.  _ He’s no one,  _ Pansy cried inwardly, still unable to make a sound,  _ he’s no one you care about.  _

 

He was outed by Bellatrix Lestrange.  _ FUCK YOU!  _ Pansy’s internal screams shot at the crazed woman.  _ FUCK YOU!  _ Were she able to make a sound, she knew she’d have screamed the words at the witch. 

 

Neville got shakily to his feet as Voldemort continued to question him. 

 

_ He’d join you when hell freezes over.  _ In any other scenario it would have been amusing when Neville spoke the exact same sentiment aloud. “Dumbledore’s Army!” he suddenly bellowed, and a cheer erupted around Pansy and the others. 

 

“Neville mate, what the fuck are you doing?” Theo muttered.

 

Swallowing was becoming increasingly difficult for Pansy, and her tears littered the ground like raindrops. She still couldn’t close her eyes, not whilst Neville still stood there.  _ I love you,  _ those were the last words he’d spoken to her, and perhaps the only ones that mattered. Still she watched as Voldemort summoned forth the Sorting Hat, of all things, spoke something Pansy barely heard about Salazar Slytherin, before forcing the hat over Neville’s head. 

 

It was as though watching some grotesque and horror-filled show, only made more grotesque and horror-filled when Voldemort set the hat on fire. Time completely and utterly stopped, and yet she still wasn’t able to move. When somehow, suddenly, he wasn’t on fire anymore. Theo’s wand was outstretched, close to Pansy’s ear and Pansy wondered fleetingly whether Theo had cast a spell to help Neville, only to see her boyfriend pull out a sword, bandish it wildly, and behead a snake. 

 

“YES NEVILLE MATE!” Theo cried, though his shout was lost in the enormous din that enveloped them. 

 

And suddenly she could move, and so, it seemed, could the crowd. If the earlier fight had been chaotic, it held nothing on the madness that ensued this time. Pansy however, cared not about fighting, not about the giants running about, or the centaurs, or even, in that moment, her friends. 

 

She knew he would have been looking for her but it was Pansy who reached him, and held him and, despite knowing they both needed to get up and fight, didn’t ever want to let go. 

 

They rose up together, and Pansy, as much as she wanted to, knows the chance to yell at him for how stupid and amazing and reckless and brave his actions had been, wasn’t now. Because, just as she knew they would, they had to keep fighting. And through the fight they raced, towards everything and nothing, and they dodged past fear, and sprinted by hope, ducked under pain, shielded against grief, and turned. Turned in the face of the kind of courage that only exists when the very real danger of being snatched from the world of the living is a very real possibility in that moment.

 

And this time, at least, they did it together. 

 

Their actions weren’t calculated and precise, not like they had practised, because it wasn’t like anything they could ever have prepared for. It was, once again, nothing like Pansy had ever imagined, and with nought but wand and adrenaline and the fact that Neville was this time beside her and still breathing despite his best efforts to the contrary. It was raw, and real and somewhere deep inside she felt as though she could have looked the devil himself in the eye, and laugh. 

 

They broke off from the fighting, with a convenient assortment of broken armour and fallen stone providing a brief place for a reprieve. 

 

His eyes lock with hers for mere seconds before Pansy’s resolve weakens, and she balls her fists, holding his t shirt as her tears begin to fall. “I’m so mad at you.”

 

“I knew you would be,” he says, his words gentle as Pansy let go of his t shirt, threw her arms around his neck and held him the only way she knew how: with grit and longing and absolutely everything she had. 

 

And then, she saw him. Close to them, too close. For the second time that evening he was  _ too close. _

 

“Neville,” she whispered as fear gripped her. “Neville, there’s Rabastan Lestrange.”

 

She had always expected a confrontation, of course she had. The decision for them to come back and fight meant that should have been inevitable. Neville pulls out his wand. 

 

“What are you doing?” She asked, terrified. 

 

In a second Rabastan is placed in a body bind, and stunned. 

 

“I should kill him.”

 

“You aren’t a killer,” Neville said. 

 

From their position, they watch a second man approach Rabastan’s stunned body. Pansy felt her heart lurch towards her throat. 

 

“You don’t have to do anything,” she heard Neville whisper.

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

She stood. “Hello, father. 

 

“Pansy?” Her name felt strangled and foreign when uttered from his mouth. “Pansy, I...leave. You can still leave.”

 

“No,” Pansy replied. 

 

Pansy didn’t miss the flicker of his father’s eyes towards Rabastan on the floor, and then to Neville, wand raised and pointed at her father’s heart, by Pansy’s side. “I-I have made mistakes.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“I only did what I thought was best. It was the  _ game _ , Pansy, I tried to-”

 

“You don’t  _ sell  _ your child, for a game.”

 

She watched Cassius Parkinson swallow, she didn’t know whether it was regret at his actions in his eyes, or at her reluctance to follow them. She found she didn’t care.

 

“Petrificus Totalus.” She made sure his body hit the floor before she stunned him after an emotionless  _ Fuck you, father _ , leaving both him and Rabastan together on the ground. Pansy walked towards the two, firing five extra stunning spells at each as she did, before levitating a pile of rubble, and dumping it atop the two Death Eaters. 

 

Pansy and Neville entered the Great Hall once more, not to what either expected: further madness. There was only one fight, and was, for some reason, all being done through spoken word, as Harry Potter faced off against Lord Voldemort. 

 

They joined every onlooker, glued to the scene and watched as both Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort finished speaking, and both raised their wands. Unable to tear their eyes away as Voldemort cast a killing curse and Potter, for reasons Pansy would never fathom, cast a simple disarming charm. 

 

They watched as both spells met, and ricocheted, and watched still as Voldemort’s rebounded. 

 

Pansy Parkinson’s breath was hovering somewhere in her throat, her hand refusing to leave the sanctity of Neville’s, the only sanctity either had, perhaps they only sanctuary either had ever had, as they watched Voldemort fall, and Harry Potter win. 


	50. Now We Do

An end, once and for all. 

 

Surely she couldn’t have been the only one whose brain felt foggy, shrouded in a heavy cloud of disbelief, exhaustion, the spark of hope most definitely there, but held there warily. She was half-scared to believe. Surely it wasn’t over? Surely they couldn’t have happiness now,  _ real  _ happiness?

 

Surely not.

 

The Dark Lord had hit the ground with an underwhelming thud, just as the first light of the day began to streak through the windows, the enchanted ceiling, not that she’d paid it a whole lot of attention, was magically altering itself, from menacing and swirling dark clouds, to a clear, bright blue morning sky. The Hall itself may have been bright, and threatless now, but a distinct air of sorrow still surrounded them. 

 

The sight of Voldemort’s fallen body made her feel somewhat queasy, and so Pansy opted not to look at it. Instead, she watched Potter as he was embraced by Weasley and Granger, they way he always had been. 

 

_ He actually did it _

 

She  _ knew  _ she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t believed he’d had a hope in hell of actually defeating Voldemort. 

 

Around them, people were beginning to celebrate; cheers and shouts filled her eardrums. Everywhere, she could see people clutching at each other. In elation, and possibly also in grief. 

 

His arms were already around her as she turned herself into him. She gripped him, the same as she had a hundred times before, and yet somehow it was entirely differently that time. Holding him with her very existence, just as she knew he held her with everything he had and she wondered, fleetingly, what twisted entity of Fate would possibly have entrusted his pure, too good for her heart, to her. 

 

She’d never felt so grateful for anything more than she was for that. 

  
  


* * *

 

At Neville’s insistence, Pansy found herself sitting in the line, waiting for Madam Pomfrey, or any of her volunteers, to take a look at the gash on her chin. It hadn’t yet closed or shown any signs of stopping bleeding, and it was only after she’d looked down and seen the steady stream of blood present on the front of her top, did Pansy realise she had possibly been bleeding steadily for hours. 

 

She hadn’t actually felt faint until that moment. 

 

“Theo?” Pansy said, elongating the  _ o _ sound and realising that now she very, very much felt incredibly dizzy. 

 

Neville had several people to celebrate with apparently, and he’d entrusted Theo and Millicent to sit with Pansy whilst he spoke, and consoled, a number of people Pansy cared very little for. Instructing the pair to not allow Pansy, as she had tried to argue, to just go back to her bed in the Head’s quarters, and sleep it off. 

 

She watched, hazily, as Theo opened his mouth to reply, but hear it she did not. 

 

For some insane reason, she was now, despite the fact Pansy was certain she’d just - a second before, been sitting with Theo and Millicent waiting to get her stupid chin checked over, lying in the Hogwarts hospital wing. 

 

_ Well, this is weird _ , Pansy thought as she blinked awake, the brightness of the room overpowering.

 

She felt his hand in hers a mere second before she heard his voice. It was strong, yet gentle, and had she not already been lying down, would have melted her. “Hi, Beautiful.”

 

Turning her head to the side hurt far more than Pansy knew it ought to. “Hi,” she said, or so she tried to anyway, what transpired was a sort of frog-like, unattractive croak.  _ Oh, lovely _

 

To his credit, Neville didn’t laugh. 

 

“Why am I in bed?” Pansy asked, her voice now in a particularly unattractive region between a husk and a grunt. 

 

“You collapsed baby.”

 

“Oh.”

 

From somewhere over to the side, behind Neville, Pansy watched the blurry at first familiar figure of the Hogwarts matron come into focus. 

 

“Ah, Miss Parkinson, how are you feeling?”   
  


“I’ve felt better,” Pansy croaked, wrinkling her nose at the way her entire body seemed to ache as one. 

 

Madam Pomfrey busied herself with gathering a myriad of potions together, which, after both she and Neville helped pull her into something close to a sitting position, Pansy was handed, one by one. 

 

“Thanks,” she said meekly.

 

Madam Pomfrey smiled stiffly. “Get more rest,” she instructed, before moving to the inhabitant of the bed beside Pansy’s.   
  


“How long was I asleep?”

 

Neville frowned at his watch. “About a day and a half.”

 

“A day and...a...wha’...”

 

* * *

 

She blinked open her eyes, the light was lesser this time, perhaps it was nighttime. 

 

“About bloody time,” she heard Draco’s familiar drawl comment.

 

_ Fucking cheek _

 

“It’s good to see you too,” Pansy replied, her voice, if anything, even more croaky.  _ Fantastic.  _

 

Looking around as best she could, Pansy saw Draco was sitting, in robes far grander than she was used to seeing him wear, in a chair at her bedside. Neville, she could see, was in a similar chair just off to the side, his head slumped. He looked fast asleep. 

 

“He’s barely left your side, you know,” Draco said.

 

“How long has it been now?”

 

“Three days,” he frowned, “no, almost four.”

 

Pansy raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Holy shit.”  _ As if a cut on my chin could cause this much trouble _

 

As it turned out, when said cut was cursed the way Pansy’s had been, the amount of trouble it caused could be rather large. 

 

“I know, lazy arse.”

 

“How is everyone else?”

 

“Oh, you know,” Draco began, “Daphne is now friends with everybody we’ve ever known, because of course she is. Blaise is already finding excuses to get out of all the lunches she’s made plans for.”

 

Pansy let out a soft laugh.

 

“She’s been amazing though,” Draco said, “she volunteered to help with the injured.”

 

“She’s always been amazing,” Pansy replied proudly. “What about Theo and Mills?”

 

“Theo is...being Theo,” he shrugged. “But they broke up.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah, I don’t know, something about being better as friends.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

He smiled. “I will be, I think. I, uh, I’ve met up with Potter, actually, a couple of times and-”

 

She hoped she’d have another time to grill him over the worrying drinking habits he’d displayed over the course of the year, knowing that then wasn’t the time or place, and tell him as bluntly as she wished she could that they were stopping, whether he liked it or not, and she  _ certainly  _ now needed to know why, at the mention of his bizarre meetings with Potter were causing something that resembled something of a blush on Draco’s cheeks, when the realisation hit her like a ton of bricks. “Oh my gosh, Draco, I left Winky at the cottage, you need to go-”

 

“No, you didn’t,” Draco replied dryly. 

 

“I did, I told her-”

 

“I know what you  _ told _ her, but when has that elf ever done what we’ve told her to do? She’s in the Head Quarters, had been since the battle ended. Only comes out to come here, insists she be the one to change your sheets, that sort of thing. Because she’s  _ your elf, oh yes she is _ .”

 

Pansy took in a long breath. “I’ll kill her.”

 

“Well I wouldn’t tell her that if I were you.”

 

* * *

 

Pansy was discharged from the Hospital Wing the following day. She’d spent her final hours there with Neville, Draco, Daphne, Blaise, Millicent, Theo and Winky. The latter entirely unapologetic for her disobedience, despite Pansy’s annoyance. 

 

“Miss Pansy is barking up the wrong tree if she is hankering after an apology from Winky, oh yes she is,” Winky replied firmly as she busied herself plumping Pansy’s pillows. 

 

Professor McGonagall had been to see her also. Any other year would have seen her roll her eyes at the prospect of a meeting with the head of Gryffindor house. Now, however, each of the two witches held something of a respect for the other. 

 

“The pair of you didn’t involve yourselves in the hurt, or torture, of any of the students of Hogwarts, this past year?”

 

“No,” Draco replied.

 

“And you both tried, to the best of your abilities, to thwart the Carrows’ efforts to do so.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Minerva McGonagall regarded both Pansy and Draco over her spectacles. “That was very brave of you both,” she said. Her eyes travelled over the group. “Of all of you.”

 

“Thanks,” Pansy replied awkwardly.

 

“There is one last matter to attend to,” the Professor was saying, “since the school year has technically now ended, albeit rather prematurely, “and you two are no longer Head Boy and Girl. It is customary for the House Elf granted to yourselves to return to the service of Hogwarts. Yours, however,” McGonagall paused as she looked at Winky, whose floppy rabbit-ears were bobbing slightly, “has expressed a wish that her ownership be granted to you, Miss Parkinson, on a permanent basis. Is this something you’d wish for, also?”

 

Pansy’s answer was tumbling from her mouth before her brain had fully engaged the magnitude of the situation. 

 

“Yes, I...please, if that’s okay?”

 

“I imagine it usually wouldn’t be, but it seems you and, uh, Winky here have gone through more than most go through. And I think Professor Dumbledore would have allowed it.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Then I, as reappointed headteacher of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, do forth transfer ownership of the House Elf known as Winky, to Miss Pansy Parkinson. I can get your contract, or...” McGonagall trailed off, clearly the transfer of House Elf ownership was not something she was used to dabbling in.

 

“Pah!” Winky replied. “Winky needs no contract, no she does not.”

 

“Very well, I hope you heal well, Miss Parkinson.” She turned to leave. “And, thank you. To all of you.”

 

* * *

 

“I have no desire to return there.”

 

“Are you sure, she might…” Neville gestured vaguely, clearly running out of words. 

 

“She didn’t even come see me when I was in the hospital wing!”

 

“She did, actually,” Neville replied sheepishly. “Once.”

 

Pansy stopped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”   
  


“Because,” his eyes refused to meet hers, “I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

 

Narrowing her eyes, Pansy regarded him. “Neville?”   
  


“Hmm?” Neville appeared to be examining a the nail on his right pinky. 

 

“Why would I be mad at you?”

 

“Well, I know you don’t always like her, and everything, but you might have been mad to learn that your boyfriend started, uhh, yelling at her...in the corridor...and, well…”   
  


“You yelled at my mother?”

 

“Well she didn’t even take your hand,” Neville replied, raising the hand that wasn’t holding hers and gesturing animatedly, “or really ask how you were, just sat there stiffly and I just, I remembered everything you told me...and I got mad...so I waited until she was leaving...and I yelled.”

 

“You yelled at my mother,” Pansy repeated.

 

“Are you mad? Oh, you’re mad aren’t you?”

 

“I...think I’m actually a bit turned on,” she replied honestly. Turning back down the corridor once more, they continued walking. 

 

“Oh.” Neville was clearly taken aback. “Well, that’s good.”

 

“I could go to Daphne’s,” Pansy mused. Freya Greengrass had invited her openly during a visit late the previous day, She’d offered kindly, with a certain look and in a way only a mother could.  _ As a mother should,  _ Pansy thought. 

 

“You  _ could, _ ” Neville agreed, “or mine. My gran is desperate to meet you properly, you know.”

 

“That’s a scary thought,” Pansy snorted a laugh.

 

“Or there’s Draco’s, he said earlier you’re more than welcome to stay at his.”

 

“Yeah,” Pansy replied absentmindedly. “He did.” Draco’s father was now in prison, he had explained. Along with the rest of the rounded up Death Eaters, including the Carrows and both, Pansy’s mouth had dried as Draco had informed her, both her father and Rabastan. The pair had been found, in the same place Pansy and Neville had left them, stunned and covered in rubble, by Kingsley Shacklebolt and his team of aurors, after a tip off from Neville himself to search there. 

 

Pansy considered the invitation. Her desire to go stay at Draco’s was on par with her desire to stay at the Greengrass’s, not unpleasant in any way, but right then simply unwanted. 

 

“Winky knows where to go, oh yes she does,” a small voice said from somewhere near Pansy’s elbow. “Enough of this walking, you will both take Winky’s hands, yes you will.”

 

And they did. 

 

The air smelled soft and familiar, but this time with a hint of something else they hadn’t had before: freedom.”

 

Pansy sat, at Winky’s insistence, in her usual spot, just as Neville did the same. She knew Daphne had taken the lease for the place for a year, therefor they had months left to stay, but Pansy knew that once she worked out a way to secure what portion of what lay inside the Parkinson vaults was hers, she’d buy it.

 

“It feels different now,” he remarked, taking in the cottage’s living room. “It’s only been a few days, but...I don’t know, it’s different.”

 

“I know,” Pansy replied. “This time, it feels…” she couldn’t find the words. Out the window she could just see the rolling fields she’d grown so accustomed to seeing. If she were to get up, part of the river would be  _ just  _ visible. The sky - the same sky that she would be able to look at the stars again on - was the same bright summer blue that had been present every day since the battle hung overhead, the lightest she’d seen it in months, she realised.

 

Winky’s large tennis ball eyes beamed up at both Pansy and Neville. “Like home,” the small elf said. “It feels like home, yes it does.”

 

“Yeah,” Pansy breathed as she leaned into Neville’s chest, “I’ve never had one of those, not really.”

 

She felt Neville’s arm wind around her shoulders as his lips gently kissed her cheek. 

 

Winky positively beamed. “And now you do, Miss Pansy.”

 

“Correction, Winky,” Pansy said with a soft smile. She pressed her side into Neville’s, feeling, for the first time in a long time, truly happy. “Now  _ we  _ do.”

 

-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To you, Reader. Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming on Pansy and Neville's journey with me. 
> 
> I'll miss you, Darkened Skies. 
> 
> Love, thewaterfalcon


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